Worlds Apart
by Olivia N
Summary: When an oddly secretive American enters the Opera Populaire a forgotten ghost awakens once more to remind them of their fears, but when the strange American refuses to yield, goals change into an obsessive hunt to uncover guarded secrets.
1. The Opera Populaire

**Alright, first let me say thank you for coming to read this- I am much obliged. This is a phanfic written by both myself and my best friend Sumner Bain that I have been waiting till theright moment to post on here. I know that it might start off a little slow, and such, but I promise-cross my heart and hope to die- that it grows to be, in my opinion, extremely addictive. Nowfor a heads up, please forgive me if something might be slightly historically incorrect, but the likelihood of this is slim. Anyways, I just wanted to see what you generous reviewers thought of it- and please feel free to tell me whether it is a compliment or a snide remark- I appreciate all opinions. Alright, well this is just a little portion of the beginning to allow you to familiarize with the new lead female characters and see how you all react to it- if its total crap and no one likes it then I will spare you all the horror of seeing it again. Ok, so, thanks for reading my endless babble, please review, and thanks!**

**-Olivia N.**

Chapter 1

The beauty struck her, relieving the breath she had been confining from her body. The sheer magnitude of the building produced excitement in its purest form, causing her chest to rise as she took in the rich Parisian air. However, the magnitude held with it an air of great foreboding. The deep shadows offered a chance for the night's touch to creep in, even during broad day light. Here the rich played, and with it came the Upper Class's snobbery, those within it reflected the higher standing of which they lived. Only the best made it inside; only the greatest remained. The gargoyles upon the roof offered great imagination with dark stories, and great mythologies of the past. Could they be true? Ghosts, and the what not? Most doubted it, yet there is always an unspoken history with such buildings of grandiose. Perhaps it was the price of fame. The deep dark past which the light tried to hide came out at night, but luring of the building became a drug that few could resist the addiction to. The knowledge of the interior, and its people was as intoxicating as any drug, or drink. Rumors became truth, like a beautiful goddess awaiting a chance to play. Possibly Aphrodite lived within, feeding off the beauty, the rich, and the gossip inside. Such wonders held few at bay for all longed to enter the threshold of the Opera Populaire.

Rarely did she ever feel the twinge of anxiety, the pain of doubt and fear, but in this world of such splendor an outsider like herself could not help but feel uncertain. She was not raised in this beauty, not native to its magnificence, and in fact was not even born on the same continent. American born, a pure blood Southerner, elegance and sophistication was something in her life she had seen only mere glimpses of, and unfortunately this was far too obvious. Here she stood in her faded, dirt smudged, day on the farm picking cotton dress, her chestnut brown hair hanging freely and curling wildly down her back. She stared with large, curious chocolate brown eyes at the magnificent Opera house, poised at its steps with two tattered leather suit cases tucked under her peculiarly muscled and tanned arms. She was a fit but not petite woman, her build being some what more broad and strong than most females, although she had been told her figure was very well proportioned. Her face was oval shaped and nearly faultless, with few scars from past blemishes, a slightly prominent nose, dark arched eyebrows, high cheek bones, and full succulent pink lips. In her world she had been considered lovely, one of the rare beauties to emerge from her diminutive home town in south Georgia, but in dazzling Paris this was not so.

Intimidated, nervous and hesitant of her decision, panic began to rise in her chest, her breath becoming heavy and ragged. For a moment she felt like fleeing, just turning tail and sprinting right back to her simple Southern life, living out the remainder of her days wasting her strength and soul on the land she'd never had a passion for and being subordinate to a husband she'd never love. But no, she had to remind herself bitterly, not even those simplicities were open to her anymore. She couldn't go back, not even if she wanted to. This was her only option.

She swallowed down her insecurity, forcing her shoulders back and somewhat lifting her head to give an air of confidence about her image. She would walk through those doors with bravery and an open mind; will herself to begin a new life. This time she would not doubt or fear- this time things would work out. With this thought fresh in her mind she found her strength had returned to her, and so with a look of determination about her expressions she ascended the stairs and entered the magnificent Opera Populaire.

**Thanks for reading! Please comment and I'll update again soon! Thanks!**


	2. Meeting Vitusia

**Ok- I thought the last bit was too short so here is the next part. Please review. Thanks!**

**Olivia N.**

She had hoped that when she entered the Opera Populaire the crowding would have died down, but inside was a bustle of activity just like the congested streets of Paris. She had plunged herself into chaos, the glamorous entrance littered with numerous people rushing back and forth in a panicky sprint, shouting demands and requests across the room to others she assumed were working back stage. Apparently, they were all working diligently to finish last minute changes to the set and costumes for the upcoming play, seeing as most sprinting about were either carrying armfuls of fabrics or plywood. No one had noticed when she entered, standing dumbfounded as she watched the activity, her two suitcases slowly trying to slide out from under her arms- or so she had thought no one noticed.

"You!" An outstandingly tall man who had emerged just a short while ago from a backroom shouted, his deep, rich baritone voice causing her to jump in surprise and accidentally drop her suitcases to the marble floor. Panic flew over her face once the cases hit, the crash of the leather against the marble sending a earsplitting slap to reverberate across the entrance. Instantly she dropped to her knees, snatching the smaller of the two suitcases into her arms and clutching it firmly to her chest, ignoring the other entirely. Her rich brown eyes stared frightfully over the baggage in her arms at the bustling crowds, wide and dismayed like a deer in the headlights. Despite the sound, no one seemed to notice her behavior and so after a few tense seconds she relaxed and gathered her other suitcase, rising shakily to her feet. Almost immediately though she was startled once more as she noticed the man who had shouted at her was no longer across the room but standing firmly before her, a look of absolute irritation on his sculptured face. He stood several inches over her, a broad giant with intense green eyes and mahogany brown hair that gently brushed his outward chin. His clothes were loose fitting workers jeans and shirt, hanging well on his wide form that loomed maliciously over her.

"What are you doing here?" He questioned coldly, his firm arms crossing across his oddly thin chest, "Can't you see there is a job to be done here? We don't have time for you damned tourists to be poking your noses in our work. Come back when there isn't an Opera to be rehearsed."

The man began shooing her out then, taking advancing steps forward and cutting her off each time she tried to explain. He had almost had her fully out the door when another man came striding forward, this one a slight bit shorter and rather finally dressed.

The new man's voice was frantic as he called, "Vits! Vits! I must speak with you on a matter of great importance."

The tall man, this so called Vits, cursed under his breath before whirling about on his heel, responding with a tone of forced pleasantness, "Yes Patron, what is it?"

The patron came to a steady halt before them, giving a polite nod to her as a greeting and then answering Vits carefully, "My dear Vits, you are doing outstandingly well managing the set design- I applaud you for your skills and dedication to the job and I hate to ask more of you but..."

Vits raised a critical eyebrow, "But what?"

The patron gulped uncomfortably and quickly continued, "Our leading male just backed out for reasons of questionable sanity."

Vits glared and tapped his foot in irritation, "And what, exactly, would you like me to do about it?"

He grinned sheepishly as he tenderly responded, "Well- you are the understudy."

Vits growled, lifting his hand to his face and rubbing his temples clockwise with large fingers, "Great- all this, plus rehearsal- and the sets are not even finished yet. Wonderful, now I will truly never sleep."

The patron offered a small apology, "I apologize Vits- but believe me when I say I would not be asking this of you if it were not urgent."

"I know," Vits snarled, and then releasing a dark sigh said slowly, "Alright, I'll do it- but I get paid extra- just cause I work for you doesn't mean I'm going to do you favors without expecting reward."

"Splendid!" The patron beamed, releasing a sigh of relief, "Thank you Vitusia- I will see to it that you receive your pay after the play has commenced." Again he gave a nod to the both of them only this time stopped to stare questioningly at this unfamiliar woman. His voice was strongly curious as he questioned, "Who is this?"

Vits shrugged, "Just some tourist- she was just leaving."

The woman stared momentarily at Vits with a look of aggravation on her pretty face and then swiftly rushed to introduce herself to the patron. "Monsieur," She smiled, offering her hand for a firm handshake, "My name is Raylan Willoughby. I've traveled here from America in search of a respectable job opportunity, and was hoping that your great facility might have a few openings that I could apply for."

The patron looked shocked, "You want a job, this late in production? Oh my dear, that is quite impossible. Where would we place you? There is no place that is willing to start over and train a rookie."

Desperation flashed across Raylan's face and although she had clearly been rejected she scrambled to get him to reconsider, "Please monsieur, reconsider. I am trained well in areas of design, embroidery, culinary and performing arts. I was leading soprano in my church choir, taught several sowing classes in my home town, and have been taking cooking lessons since I was five. If this is not enough sir I ensure you that I am a quick learner and am willing to do whatever you wish for low pay."

The patron was silent for a moment, seeming to mull the thoughts over in his but once again he decided against it, "I am sorry Mademoiselle, there is just no time or space for you at the present time. Come back in a month or two and I guarantee you a position."

Raylan's mouth dropped, her voice caught in her throat as tear began to form around the brim of her eyes. This couldn't happen. She had promised him she would get this job, promised everything would work out this time. She had promised they could live in peace here, promised that this time they wouldn't have to fear.

Vits had caught the fleeting tear in this woman eyes, the sudden terror and disappointment. Messages were written all over her face- this woman for what ever reason was desperate. Desperation, Vits knew all to well what that emotion could do to a person. He released a groan, the type that suggested he would regret his actions later and then spoke hurriedly to the patron, "Patron, if memory serves me right I do believe that we are a few hands short in the costume department. La Carlotta's dress for Act Five has yet to be finished, and all the available seamstresses have their hands full. Perhaps there could be use for Mademoiselle Willoughby after all."

The patron opened his mouth as if meaning to protest but before he could speak the deafening sound of snapping wood sounded from the back, and several set builders began to shout furiously to one another. The patron flinched and began to growl viciously, "Oh god in heaven, does anything ever stay intact around here? How fantastic, another set to fix. Vits, could you deal with that, please?"

Vits nodded in agreement, but did not move. Instead he stood there, anchored by Raylan's side, silently making his demand.

The patron rolled his eyes but quickly gave in, "Fine, she's hired, but she's in your hands- I won't be spending my time helping her. I have a production to worry about. Vits, show her to costume room- and get that set fixed. And for god sakes don't forget to study your new part." And with that he turned on his heels and strutted out of the room, muttering colorful curses under his breath.

Vits turned quickly to Raylan then, giving her absolutely no time to thank him before he spoke swiftly and harshly, "You owe me one kid. You're a seamstress. Don't mess this up, and welcome to the Opera Populaire- now follow me, and don't drag behind. You slow me down, then you're on your own." With a click of his tongue he turned, striding towards the back stage with long, determined steps, Raylan shuffling clumsily at his heels.


	3. The Shadow Above

**Alright- I've posted most of this on the phantom of the opera. com so just to keep you all up to date I am going to put in the next few sections. Thanks for the reviews and hits!**

**-Olivia N.**

The few moments it took for Vits to lead her through the interwoven mazes of the backstage had become somewhat of a blur to Raylan when they had reached the costume room. She had been in such awe of the magnificence built around her, in such a complete shock that she had not bothered to pay attention to where they were traveling. She could recall the countless times that stage hands would approach them, swiftly telling Vits of the problems and miscalculations of the set design. Vits would answer them all quickly and snappishly, his tone cold and harsh, before continuing on their journey in a frosty silence. When they had reached the costume department Vits had made her wait outside while he entered to speak with someone named Madame Dacio, who he then quickly informed her was the matron of the seamstresses before vanishing through the threshold.

Relief was a bliss she had rarely experienced, a feeling that she was nearly unfamiliar with but now found coursing joyfully through her veins. The tension in her muscles had gradually relaxed as she allowed her body to lean heavily against the wooden frame of the door, taking long and measured breaths to ease the excitement that had built up over the past few moments. Her hands still clenched protectively to her two suitcases, but for the time being she had allowed her arms to loosen up and dangle carelessly at her sides. Resting her head against the door frame, her eyes stared absently at the rafters overhead, not truly seeing for her mind focused on the rhythmic sound of her breathing. In and out, in and out, her air would crescendo and decrescendo as steadily as the roll of a timpani. It consumed her senses, this clear and calm sound drowning her worries until all that remained was this gentle wind tunnel, this soothing breeze. She could feel her eyes fluttering shut, begging for the sweet sleep it had so long been denied, but just as the world had begun to darken she had caught the fleeting shape of something above. A figure had caught her eyes in the rafters but before she could bring herself completely out of her trance it was gone, leaving nothing but a soft breeze that had hinted that something had been there just a moment ago. Fully aware now her eyes searched thoroughly above, straining to see through the darkness that loomed overhead. Vits had returned though just as she had begun to make shapes out of the darkness, diverting her attention instead to the woman that accompanied him.

The female was a short, round woman with beady green eyes and thick, crimped grey hair that had all been piled up into a bun on the top of her head. She wore a simple but fashionable navy blue dress that fell over her shoes to give off the illusion that she had no feet. Her face was made up quite nicely, thin amounts of blue eye shadow applied on and a soft red blush adding color to her pale cheeks. Other than that she looked surprisingly normal, with the exception of her teeth which had been coffee stained yellow.

"So you're the new blood," The plump woman snorted, sending Raylan a wide, yellow grin, "Well- I hope you didn't make that rag you are wearing- hate to have to fire you on your first day. My name is Madame Adèle Cyran Dacio, but you are to address me as Madame Dacio alone. Is that understood?"

Raylan nodded respectfully, "Perfectly, Madame Dacio."

"Good, we'll get along then," Madame Dacio's smile faded then, replaced by a look of absolute seriousness as she firmly continued, "Now, listen carefully to me child because if the rules I am about to lay down are not followed do not think that I won't hesitate to dispose of you. You are to wake up every morning an hour before sunrise, get a substantial breakfast in you and preferably wear something much more presentable than what you are presently wearing. I refuse for my department to earn a bad name just because you were too lazy to fix yourself up. Now, you are to be here in this room at dawn each morning and you will work until midday before you are given a short lunch break. I would suggest you do not wander far during your time off because we start up again rather quickly around here. After that you will work until dusk, and depending on the amount of work you had finished during the day will decide whether or not I let you leave when the others do. In the evening I want you to eat a decent dinner, clean up, and then go straight to bed- you need your rest so no late nights. This is how you are to spend your time, no more and no less. Is that understood?"

She paused for a moment only to digest the information given to her, and then responded tenderly, "Yes Madame Dacio- I understand."

"That's a good girl. Alright, well come in here when you are done making arrangements with Vitusia. I'll have Michèle show you your work station when you are ready," Madame Dacio seemed pleased for the time being, giving Raylan an approving slap on the arm that nearly knocked her suitcases from her hold. She didn't seem to notice Raylan scrambling to keep her luggage close as she exchanged grateful nods with Vits, turning gracefully and strutting her way back into the costume department.

Once Raylan was certain Madame Dacio was out of ear shot she inquired to Vits, "What did she mean by making arrangements with you?"

Vits shrugged his broad shoulders nonchalantly, "I told her you were rooming with me, which you are welcome to if you need a place to stay."

Raylan's mouth dropped, and for an instant she looked appalled by the suggestion, "Stay- with you? Isn't that a little frowned upon?" In Georgia it was considered disgraceful to hold hands with a man you weren't married to, nether the less live in the same quarters with one, and so the proposal seemed some what immoral to her.

Obviously the thought did not bother him one bit for he shrugged and said casually, "Would you rather sleep on the streets?"

"Well, no, it's just a little odd, that's all," Her voice went very shy, those chocolate brown eyes drifting to the floor as if embarrassed, "I do need a place to stay though, so I suppose your place is as good as any others."

"Well hold on one second before you make up your mind," He said, causing her to lift her eyes to stare questioningly at him, "Before you get yourself into this I want to make a few things perfectly clear to you. I don't know how long you're staying, and I don't care just as long as you keep your nose out of my business. I don't enjoy sharing so try to keep to your things as much as possible. And finally on the subject of paying rent, you'll cook to earn your keep until you get your own place or board with someone else. Can you handle that?"

"Sure, I enjoy cooking anyways," Raylan remained calm and collective as the rules were laid before her, although internally she was beginning to feel more and more like she should have gone back home, when she had the chance, "I know how to live out of a suitcase, so don't worry about that, and I'm neat so I will leave no mess. As for staying out of your business, I will if you keep out of mine."

"Good. I'll drop around here after work to lead you to my apartment," Vits sealed the deal with this, giving a small bow to Raylan and turning to leave. He had made it half way down the hall before pausing to say one last thing to Raylan, this time his voice dark with threat and caution, "Oh, and Raylan, I suggest you keep to your room. It is not wise to wander these halls alone." And with that he continued walking, disappearing around the corner after only a few lengthy strides.

Raylan's brows creased towards his last statement, her mind trying quickly to figure out the hidden message in his warning, but she was given little time for Madame Dacio's voice sounded demandingly, "Raylan! Get your head out of the clouds and get in here! You are falling behind already."


	4. Surprise

**Still more coming! Please review! Thanks!**

**-Olivia N.**

Her day had flown by in the blink of an instant, almost as if had not happened at all. Madame Dacio had been on her tail all day, watching her with those scrutinizing green eyes of hers, critically judging every piece of fabric that she handled. Every stitch and hem was inspected, every flaw was caught and no job well done was commended. She keep at Raylan, pressing her to her limits, testing whether or not this foreigner would crack under the pressure of having a job done well and on time. Strange as it was Raylan would not utter a word of displeasure or disgust; just continue diligently working as well as she could until Madame Dacio was satisfied with her 'amateur' work. Being the rookie Raylan was made to stay behind once all the seamstresses were done and clean up the mess they had left behind. It didn't please her to have to do others jobs but she wittingly kept her mouth shut and did as she was told, silently and thoroughly sweeping up what cut fabrics remained scattered on the floor.

Vits leaned against the door, waiting. He still had a million other things to get done after showing Raylan to his room. He sighed, telling another stage hand his orders, for the fifth time. He was ready to scream. His tone was harsh and cold, with colorful words thrown in liberally. In irritation he tapped his foot against the door, impatient. Had he known she would take this long Vits would have finished making the cuts for the set, fixed the tarp, and would be dealing with the problem an idiot stage hand was complaining about-and then picked her up. Hadn't he told her to be ready? He sighed impatiently to show his annoyance, in which Raylan simply lifted a finger up to him, silently asking him to be patient as she finished sweeping. Vits gave her a glare and growled under her breath. The growls turned into violent swear words as he saw the Patron sweeping down the hall with a grin on his face.

The Patron called out, still smiling, "Ah! Miss Chalondra! What a lovely job you did on repairing that set!"

Vits responded with forced pleasantry, and a dark threat beneath her tone, "If you didn't make me use cut rate wood I wouldn't have that problem."

The patron gave her a false smile-both knew she was right, "Well, you still haven't painted the Act 3 Set. You need to get on that-oh and of course you'll have finished repairing the curtains? That rip looks awful. Plus the stage could use a fresh coat of wax."

At that point stress had boiled over and Vits exploded, "What rip in the damn curtains! I just fixed the bloody things last fucking show!"

The patron visibly flinched as Vits bellowed. He responded innocently, "The one Carlotta put in there this morning."

Vits took a deep breath trying to keep herself from strangling and raising her voice to the impudent man standing in front of her. It didn't work, "If you cannot control your monster how do you expect me to work! AND WHY IN FUCKING HELL DID YOU NOT TELL ME ABOUT THIS EARLIER FOR GOD'S BLEEDING SAKE!" Vits added several swear words for good measure. She really had a large vocabulary, a very large colorful one. Everyone nearby flinched and shuddered, the children and those with a weaker stomach ran.

The patron backed up a step, at the expression of rage, then grew a back bone and took several steps foreword, "Chalondra Vitusia! I will not be spoken to in that tone! I expect these things to be done by curtain!" With that he walked off, shaking pathetically.

Vits swore up, down, and all over, smashing her fists against the walls that wavered but held. Trembling with rage she spun upon Raylan, asking tersely, "Are you ready yet!"

Raylan had dropped the broom she had been using, now standing shocked in the center of the room, her mouth hanging slightly open in surprise and a deep shade of scarlet crossing her tanned cheeks. Her voice was very shy and weak as she inquired, "You...you... you're female?"

Vits looked her up and down, giving her the look that she offered to stupid people. "Yes! Now are you finished! In case you didn't hear, I have more shit to do in less than a night that people do in their goddamn life times!"

Raylan jumped, her hands beginning to shake in utter terror. Her face had gone pale from Vits outburst and even more timidly than before she said, "Yes, I'm ready." She took her two suitcases into her hands, standing with a hunched, weak posture as if waiting to shy away from the apparently enraged woman.

Vits nearly ran through the vast and winding halls, taking so many numerous twists and turns that Raylan could barely keep up. Vits curtly told her new roommate over her shoulder as she stormed on, "Stay close and remember, I won't tell you twice." She lead the ways through the halls, occasionally barking orders to various people to do certain things-all involving the issues the patron had told her or getting people to deal with them. Everyone she spoke to jumped at her command, and followed the orders she gave. Before Raylan had the chance to memorize their travel, Vits opened a cheap wooden door leading off of one of the main halls; apparently her apartment.

The word small is too big to describe her place. The space was tight, but not cramped-there was barely anything in there. An ice box and a stove with a sink served as a tiny kitchenette, with a two person wooden table that barely sat one. Less than two steps from the table sat a worn down and thoroughly beaten couch that sagged with age and use. It hadn't been moved in a good ten years or so, and was left over from many previous owners. A canvas curtain, resembling a ship's sail acted as a divider into another room that was currently blocked from Raylan's view.

Vits growled and pointed to the couch, "Yours. Keep it neat." And with that she turned on her heel and left, shouting orders as she went.

Raylan released a long withheld sigh once Vits had left the room, only then placing her two suitcases in front of the couch that was apparently her sleeping arrangements. Cautiously she made to sit on the couch, very carefully lowering herself onto the slumping cushions in fear that it would suddenly fall out from beneath her. When it did nothing more but squeak from the sudden weight she allowed herself to relax, leaning forward and picking up the larger of the suitcases. She placed it tenderly beside her and opened it, lifting the top to expose the few garments and accessories to her name. In this suitcase the only thing that stood apart was a medium sized red, leather bound journal with one long leather string tied about it to keep it closed. She removed the journal carefully and with both hands as if she feared dropping it and the precious book shattering into a million unmatchable pieces. After placing the book securely in her lap she recovered a small sharpened pencil stashed within the piles of clothing and then closed the suitcase, lowering it to the ground along side its smaller twin. The smaller suitcase caught her eyes as she began to rise back into the couch, that beaten and worn thing that was barely holding it's self together. It had marks all over it, scratches and indentions as if it had been kicked around several times before. Her eyes looked viciously at it, her lips thinning with a pent up rage, and if glances could burn hers certainly would have set the small case a flame. Slowly she willed herself to tear her eyes away though, and with a heavy sigh she leaned back into the couch. Her attention was directed to the journal then, her hands running fondly over the red leather, caressing its glossy binding. This book was her everything; her life, hopes, dreams, secrets, and mistakes. It held within its precious pages every miracle and disaster she had performed, every gift and curse. It was her memories, her heart and soul- the one object she would protect with her life. Her finger tips danced over the pages as she opened it, her eyes lazily skimming over all her past written out before her. She flipped through them slowly as if taking in all the information is contained until she reached a blank page, the lone paper beckoning her as once more her life begged to be written. And so the hours passed, Raylan remaining captivated in the magic of the written language until she caught the sound of the apartment door handle being fiddled with, in which she immediately slammed the book shut and stashed it beneath the sofa cushions.

Vits walked in, exhausted and tired from shouting. But Vits didn't just shout, she also did the work, more often pulling more than her own weight, and spent a great deal of time double checking others work-she took no chances. Her green eyes glanced over to the couch. "Oh, you're still up," She commented, her voice sounding out of energy, and needing a rest. Vits walked sluggishly the not quite two steps it took to get to the sink, in which she pulled a glass from a small cabinet along the wall, and got a glass of water from the rusting sink. She drank, draining the whole thing before refilling the glass and sipping slowly on it.

Raylan nodded cautiously, still unsure if she would be walking on egg shells with Vits. "I don't sleep often," She said simply.

Vits shrugged and said warningly, "Just be able to meet your obligations"

"Have no worries. I'll be fine," She allowed silence to come between them then, waiting for Vits to finish her water before speaking again. When she was done Raylan said apologetically, "I am sorry for before- I truly had no idea that you were female- not that I am implying that you seem more male or anything. You just didn't seem very... feminine."

Vits chuckled, her voice not hinting that Raylan's statement had offended her, "You're not the first; I doubt you'll be the last. It seems harder for women to know that I am female, most men know it right away," She shrugged, adding lightly, "I have no desire to act my sex, so I don't."

Raylan nodded, allowing the conversation to end with that. Vits was entitled to her opinion- she would not press her own upon her. Resting her head upon the sofa cushions she stared aimlessly at the ceiling, listening only to the occasional sighs and groans Vits omitted. Her mind had begun to drift into that numbed state again, once more thinking in time with the sound of her breathing but just as her eyes began to get heavy, memory interrupted her process. She saw that figure in her mind again, almost as if it were there, hovering in the rafters, a dark and looming shadow. She could not recall much more than that darkness that stood apart from its black surroundings, except for that her mind could scarcely remember the color white. Opening her eyes she lifted her head from the pillow turning her gaze upon Vits again, a small question written in her expressions.

Vits looked at the girl lying on the couch, she set the glass down in the sink harder than she intended to, and so it rang through the silence in the little room. She sighed; waiting to collapse into her hammock and get what sleep remained from the night. Her eyes noticed the look Raylan was giving her and so she said tiredly, "What in the name of all that's good do you want?"

Raylan was slightly taken back from Vits words to the point of almost reconsidering asking her, but curiosity had always and would always get the best of her. "This afternoon," She began, her eyes glistening with eager anticipation, "when you were talking with Madame Dacio and I was waiting for you in the hall- I had been watching the rafters, for no reason at all except to look at something, and just when I had begun to drift to sleep I thought I saw...well I'm not sure what I saw. For one moment there was this shadow, this figure that stood out amongst the darkness, but before I could get a good look at it, whatever it was had vanished. I know it sounds crazy, and maybe my mind was just playing tricks on me, but I could have sworn I saw something up there."

Vits nodded, and her words were dry and simple as she replied shortly, "It's him. The Phantom Of The Opera."


	5. Intrigued By Ghost Stories

**STILL more coming! Again please review and thanks again! **

**-Olivia N.**

Raylan looked suspiciously at her, one eyebrow arching higher than the other as she eyed Vits like she was crazy. "The Phantom Of The Opera?" She tried to say it without laughing, "What is he supposed to be- some kind of sales pitch?"

Vits glared. Her gaze went to the door-making sure it was closed, then back to the laughing idiot on her couch. Her voice was low, and soft, "Tell that to Joseph Bouquet. Or the Comte deChagny. They're both killed at his hands."

The words must have struck gold for Raylan's laughter stopped and her face went instantly dead serious. Her voice was slightly shaken as she inquired "People have been... murdered here?"

"Like anywhere else"

"Touché," Raylan said with a half grin. Obviously Vits words still did not make her naive roommate see the seriousness of the matter.

Vits shrugged at the girl's stupidity, and muttered, "Whatever. It's your own neck."

Raylan released a small chuckle, "Please, do you honestly expect me to believe this rubbish? The murders I can believe, but this phantom theory- lord you can't tell me you actually believe in ghosts?"

"Who said he was a ghost?"

She shrugged, "You said phantom- that automatically implies ghost."

"It's his name and reputation. I may be female, but I carry a man's name and voice. Same thing,"

"So he's a man? With the reputation of a ghost? Why have I heard nothing of him before? I'd think that a superstition like this would be the talk all over town,"

"The upper class prefers to pretend that the past never happened, and the Phantom of the Opera never existed,"

A small smile graced her lips and she laughed timidly as she said, "You're playing with me, aren't you? Some kind of annual joke played on the new comers?" She laughed harder then, foolishly finding amusement in Vits warnings as she relaxed, allowing herself to stretch out comfortably of the old sofa. "Alright Vits, I'll indulge your little game," She scoffed, that smug grin on her face as she put on an act, making her voice sound as if she were alarmed when she asked, "He sounds like such a frightful beast. This ghost must have done some horrible things for the public to deny his existence- oh dear, how terribly upsetting." Raylan suppressed a small snicker when her act had ended, looking over Vits with a humored gaze.

Vits shrugged, turning slowly towards her room. Her voice was almost apathetic as she said, "Don't blame me when the noose drops around your neck because of your ignorance. I tried to answer your questions."

Raylan sighed and sat up, giving in and sadly ending her game. "Vits," She said gently, "Vits, wait, I'm sorry- this is just all very peculiar to me- but at least believe me when I say that I am truly curious. I would like to know more about this so called 'Phantom Of The Opera'."

Vits turned around, and walked back over to the sink. She pulled down a shot glass from the small cabinet, then promptly pulling a bottle of high quality bourbon from under the sink. She poured a shot and drank it, not even flinching as the liquid burned its way down her throat, and then rapidly downed another. She always liked to be drinking when talking about the Phantom; it helped make her less uptight. Vits shook her head, clearing her throat before she spoke with a sigh, "What do you want to know?"

She shrugged, "What is there to know?"

"A lot. About two years ago, there was a great fire started from the devastating Chandelier falling,"

"Chandelier? A chandelier actually fell?" Her face displayed shock, "Was everyone ok? Did it cause any damage? Are the frames of this place really that unstable?"

"Of course the fire caused damage, the curtains are new, the stage was rebuilt, and so were several of the boxes-and most of the ground floor seats. It had nearly destroyed the Opera Populaire entirely," She shuddered at the memory of the night. She had watched it all from backstage- watched in horror, "A massive chandelier fell upon the stage- the audience made a mad dash for any exit- it was horrible. The place is perfectly sound. Several stories and most of them are underground-with a very firm foundation. Yes the Opera Populaire is soundly built. However, some of the people inside are stupid enough to piss him off. He made the chandelier drop-which caused the fire."

Raylan's eyebrows narrowed, "He set fire to the Opera house because someone aggravated him? I assume he has anger management problems?"

"He's rather possessive. And it wasn't one person that caused this problem, but rather a lot of things built up. The patron, Carlotta, the Vicomte deChagny… and Christine Daae- the vocalist he was madly infatuated with," She released a heavy sigh, cradling her head in one of her hands as if it was getting to heavy to hold up on its own, "It's a complicated story."

Once Vits had mentioned a story though Raylan eagerly perked up, her eyes flashing with a sudden amount of anticipation, "A complicated story huh? I love stories."

Vits groaned, and shook her head, "Perhaps for another time. I am in no mood to be entertaining children with bedtime stories." She glanced at a small table side clock placed beside the sink, and groaned, "I have to get up in three hours."

"Oh," The eagerness in her eyes faded and she stared with disappointment at the floor, "Alright, well, some other time then."

Vits nodded, putting the two glasses in the sink and slowly dragging herself towards the sail canvas covering the opposite room. Without saying a word she slipped behind it, closing the curtain securely and leaving Raylan rather unsatisfied.

"Goodnight," Raylan muttered softly, her voice fading into a thwarted sigh. She had allowed a few still minutes to pass before she recovered her journal from the sofa cushions, briskly brushing away the dust that had attached to it from the couch. After waiting to make sure that Vits would not reappear she opened it to another blank page, jotting down a few notes about the conversation she had had with Vits- about this infamous Phantom. Her notes however were small and basic; having gathered little from what her roommate had told her. She did not doubt that Vits knew more, much more, but Vits had been tired and unwilling to give her the whole story just yet. Still, she had to admit that this rubbish about some illusive opera ghost was slightly intriguing. There was no doubting that she was at least curious to hear the whole story- even if she did think it just to be superstition started by some attention deprived ballet rat.

After some small jotting and reading over her notes, she gave up on trying to piece together what she had learned and carefully closed the book. She replaced it in her larger suitcase, once again avoiding looking at the smaller one as she buried the journal beneath piles of clothing. She closed the larger one, making sure to lock it before placing it next to its smaller twin. Raylan lifted her arms above her head, stretching lazily before flopping back onto the dipping sofa. She situated herself only a little until she was comfortable, and then once again stared absently at the ceiling. Her rhythmic breathing brought its magical trance again, coursing over her like a sedative, relaxing each muscle and calming each thought. Her eyes had begun to flutter shut and as she had suspected her mind once more flashed to the memory of the shadow she had seen lurking in the rafters, but it had been only momentarily for her thought were quickly overcome by sleep.


	6. The Phantom Returns

**Alright- this is all you get for now. Ha! I shall keep it in my possession until people review! Muhahahahahahahahaha (cough). Please review yall- the people on the phantom of the opera. com kind of suck at it with the exception of alittleballetrat who has stayed loyal to it (thanks again!). So yea, please review and there will be more to come if you all like it. I swear the next part is extremely good- meaning like in more Phantom. Thanks everyone!**

**-Olivia N.**

An hour after sun rise Raylan flew out of the small apartment, barely taking the time to shut the door before sprinting down the hall. She was late- her first day as a seamstress and she was late. Vits had not been there when she had woken, Raylan automatically assuming that her roommate had already departed for work and had 'generously' allowed her to keep sleeping. Under her breath she cursed Vits for being so inconsiderate, but then instantly reminded herself that it was not Vits responsibility to see that she got to her job on time. No matter how alluring the idea was, Vits could not be held blame.

So her morning rituals had been a rush, trying her best to make herself look at least a tad bit presentable in the few moments she had. She had thrown on the closest thing she had to a nice dress. It was an emerald green, short sleeved dress that came down to about her ankles with a flattering neck line and pleated skirt, but the old thing was in desperate need of fixing for the stitching had been coming undone and now caused the sleeves to occasionally slide off her shoulders. She had thrown her wildly curling hair into a loose ponytail at the bottom of the back of her neck, and although she was completely aware that it looked more flattering when it hung free she had no time to mess with it at this point. Lastly she cleaned her face and added light amounts of eye shadow and blush, not enough to make herself look outstanding but just enough to look presentable as Madame Dacio had demanded her to be.

After that she had jumped into a mad dash out the door, sprinting as fast as possible down hallways and skidding around corners so clumsily that her feet almost flew out from under her each time. She ran in the direction that her hazy memory told her was the right way, continually convincing herself that every hall she turned into looked familiar, but after what she was sure was at least twenty minutes of searching she began to realize that somewhere along the way she had successfully gotten herself lost. Her pace had slowed into a brisk walk, allowing herself to be more observant of her surroundings.

The walls all looked the same, the same dulled brown wood, and the same darkness at each end. There were two hallways to either side, and the one she had come from. Both lead to black nothingness, and the one she came from lead back towards Vits's room. The question of where to go lay before her. To her left, a light flickered on, warming the end of the hall, before it turned. She would have followed after this traveling light, but a movement to her right caught her eye before she had begun to follow.

She would not believe, could not believe, but he stood there so clearly. Through the darkness she saw a man, his body veiled behind a stark black cape. Still half consumed in shadow most of his features remained hidden from her eyes, but one thing did stand oddly apart. A harsh white mask covered the right half of his face, sculpted and unfeeling, and from behind it stood out the most piercing green eyes. Instantly her eyes became captivated in his own, those haunting eyes that watched her, silent and grim. They beckoned her, an unheard hypnotic message calling her forward, mercilessly compelling her to grow closer. She had felt her feet begin to move, to dare to move towards this persuasive shadow, but the light to her left flickered out, distracting Raylan enough to make her turn to watch the warmth disappear. The soft swirl of a cape caught her ear, and she returned to look to the shadow, but as mysteriously as the man had come- he disappeared.

A chill rushed past her trying to cleanse the hall of the dark presence. The light towards the left flickered several times before coming on again, the hallways warming up from the returning light. From behind, an older woman grasped her arm, stern eyes glaring down at Raylan. She held a black walking stick, and wore soft black ballet shoes that disappeared beneath her skirts. Her hair was pulled into a severe braid. "What are you doing here, Child?" She asked harshly.

At first Raylan's voice was caught in her throat, still stunned by the strange image she had just seen, but slowly she was capable of recalling her words as she said cautiously, "I was looking for the costume department and became lost. Forgive me Madame, I just arrived here yesterday. I have yet to grow accustom to these halls."

The woman nodded, "You'd do better to pay attention where you're going next time, least you wish to end up dead. You're lucky I caught you." Suddenly she turned without letting go of Raylan, and began walking from where she had come.

Raylan allowed herself to be dragged by this unusual woman, not even thinking of resisting for she was more caught up in the woman's words. "Dead?" Her voice quivered but she continued to inquire, "Madame please, what do you mean? What was that I saw in the dark?"

"The Phantom has returned child, and the managers have not followed his orders. He is very angry- he will prey on the innocent," Her voice was wise and warning.

The woman's words for a moment made a shiver run along Raylan's spine, but she swiftly shook it away. "You're all mad- no, not mad- obsessed," Raylan laughed, shaking her head as if pitying the woman who pulled her along so urgently, "Tell me the truth Madame, who was that? Some stage hand trying to scare the new girl? Oh, I think I get it... it was Vits right? Vits put you up to this? I know she believes in that old ghost story but dressing up like some phantom and trying to frighten me is a little over the edge. You can tell her it didn't work. I'm not scared."

It was then that the woman came to a screeching halt, whirling about to face Raylan as she spat, "Vits is currently working on the set-you can ask either her or her crew. She, like the rest of us, has no time to entertain silly notions of scaring the new girl. The Phantom does exist Mademoiselle. And I'd be afraid. He's extremely skilled with his Punjab lasso."

"Punjab lasso? Right- because a ghost can hold a rope," Raylan rolled her eyes, "Listen, I don't have time to play your games- I'm already very late as it is. Can you direct me to Madame Dacio's room or not?"

The woman gave a disapproving sigh and nodded, "Down that hall-on the right." She let go of Raylan then, and without another word walked off, disappearing into through another hall.

Raylan shook her head and scoffed before following the woman's directions towards the costume department. This was crazy, all this superstition of some Opera dwelling ghost. It was down right silly. She had never been one to believe in the paranormal, no matter how much she enjoyed the creativity of the whole ordeal. From what she had gathered the story was intriguing, and the residence commitment to it was more than surprising, but going to the extent of dressing up like some shadow man was taking it all too seriously. Probably someone trying to make the whole ordeal more real, she figured silently, someone taking it too far.

By the time Raylan had made it to the costume department the entire place was in a nervous uproar, the girls whispering about a note- a note confirming that the Phantom had returned. Madame Giry had supposedly found it and promptly delivered it to the patron, who in all his greatness did not know what to do. What the note said was subject to a great deal of discussion-everything from firing Carlotta, to giving the entire Opera over to this mysterious O.G., in addition to delivering to him exorbitant sums of cash. A few girls added the permanent subscription of Box Five to the ghost. In truth, there was not a person in the Opera Populaire that did not have the word Phantom on the tip of their tongues.

Raylan's lateness had not even been noticed when she entered the costume department, everyone in too much of a nervous state to even care whether or not she was there. Madame Dacio had hardly even acknowledged her, glancing over her shoulder to say a swift hello and then turning back to her gossiping group of seamstresses. She did not join her fellow workers, but instead made her way over to her project, grabbing a needle and thread to finish the hemming on the dress La Carlotta was to wear in Act Six.

"This is to much like before," Stephanie, Madame Dacio's favored seamstress, whimpered softly, "The note that inside insults La Carlotta, demands for money and his precious Box Five- it's to similar to before. Oh Madame, this is too much to take. What if something terrible happens again- another killing, another fire, another kidnap? Oh dear, what if he takes someone again as he did Christine Daae?"

Madame Dacio's eyes widened in fear as she hushed Stephanie, "Quiet child- do not say her name. If he has indeed returned than he might be listening as we speak, and we would not wish to anger him with talk of such things." They were all silent for a moment, quiet as if straining their ears to hear some non existent foot steps or breathing.

"Oh Madame, I'm frightened!" Another of the seamstresses cried and the others chimed in with the same display of fear.

Madame Dacio went to silencing them just as Raylan let out a loud burst of laughter. All eyes were directed to her then, some of confusion and the others of anger to her reacting in such a way.

Madame Dacio inquired crudely, "Might I ask what is so amusing dear?"

Raylan shrugged, "You're all acting so childishly, like a bunch of ten year olds. You can't all honestly believe in this senile superstition."

Her words made the girls gasp as if she had just spoken blasphemy, and Madame Dacio swiftly rushed to Raylan, covering Ray's mouth with one age spotted hand. With her other hand she placed her index finger on her own lips, saying in almost a whispered voice, "Silence child, in this place everything is heard. You should be cautious with your words. One day he will have heard you, and by then it will be too late."

The curses echoed down the halls, bouncing off the walls, and magnifying so that it sounded like Vits was swearing, at the top of her lungs, right outside the door. The patron's responses could also be heard. Vits was obviously angry about something, and the patron sounded worried. As usually, Vits swore liberally and often spent some time exercising her large vocabulary under her breath. The patron had just finished adding a new extremely long list of orders for Vits, who already had a full plate.

She responded, "It's not my damn fault that you can't abide by the bloody instructions given to you! It's not that bloody hard to keep box five open! Since two years ago the crap hole barely sells anyway!" The patron responded that the only thing he knew about two years ago was children's stories, but Vits was not going to allow this pitiable excuse to calm her.

Again she screamed, her voice booming like merciless thunder, "It's not my bleeding fault you can't listen to the goddamn lore 'round here! Nor is it my fault you're new, and inexperienced!" She added several descriptive words that turned delicate stomachs.

"Chalondra Vitusia," The patron said, taking a warning tone- using Vits's full name.

She responded in the same tone, her deep baritone voice carrying off the unsaid threats better than the week tenor's of the patron, "Claud Burke." She leveled a glare with the patron, who was about to respond, but Vits cut him off, "I do well to advise you to listen to the note."

The patron steadfastly refused to follow the directions from an unseen hand.

Vits shrugged nonchalantly and said casually, "It's your own death. Don't come crying to me when he has his lasso tightening around your neck! I don't help the damned."

The patron spluttered, poorly trying to play it off like he didn't care as he commented weakly, "I don't believe in ghosts Vitusia."

Vits retorted harshly, "Tell that to Joseph Bouquet! The Compte deChagny! The hundred people that your precious chandelier fell on! You didn't bother to read the reports did you? They were left as a warning. And you bloody didn't even look at them. It's your own funeral. Dress nice."

The seamstresses in hearing this swiftly bustled out the door, each one eagerly wanting to see how the fight sounding from outside would end. It was only because Raylan recognized the voice to be Vits's that she also followed.  
Vits was seen standing there, brandishing a heavy hammer, she had been dragged out of her shop in the middle of something-most likely important. Her shirt sleeves had been rolled up, exposing her nicely muscled arms. She stood there, in all her manly glory with a threatening stance, waiting for the patron to make a wrong move. She wielded the hammer with too much finesse to have just used it for wood work. The patron stood several steps back, trying to keep out of reach of the hammer, but Vits advanced with each attack, forcing the patron to take the weaker step back. He swallowed a few times, but at the entrance of the audience he grew a backbone to maintain an image he had long since lost.

Vits looked them over with a bone melting glare. She shouted at the patron, "Look! Look what you've done! You've brought the entire fucking Opera House into my shop! And all the little brats! Now how am I supposed to get your bleeding set up in time with those stupid idiots under my feet?"

The patron tried a weak attack, "It's your fault for raising your voice."

This through her over the edge, Vits taking a threatening swing with the hammer, and another advancing step, "MY FAULT? You're the one who barged into MY shop with that god forsaken note that you're refusing to listen to! OR heed any of the damned advice from those of us who know! Who were here last time! And the excuse that you're new-wears thin. You've had your honeymoon, now get on to shitty business! And leave me the hell alone to do my work!" Her last statement was clearly directed to everyone who had gathered in the room.

The audience swiftly retreated back to their places, the crowd of seamstresses pulling Raylan unwillingly along with them. Vits had glared them all into their places, waiting for the last to go, and it was only until every person in sight had vanished before she returned to her work with the rest of her crew. She would continue her day as if nothing had happened, as if everything was normal, but hidden inside she felt as the others did- waiting with baited breath to see what other 'gifts' the Phantom would soon bring.


	7. Curious Interactions

**Hey all! I would really like more comments but I figured I just go ahead and post this to try and persuade you all to review. Alright, thanks guys!**

**-Olivia N.**

He had been the subject of each conversation every day since the finding of his note; for a week straight the word Phantom was dancing on the lips of every person residing within the Opera Populaire. Despite her disbelief Raylan had listened to the strange tails of this opera ghost and added every little ridiculous superstition to the notes in her journal. They described him as sinister and hideous, a black figure reeling his death head, drawing you in with his music, into the depths of his underworld from which you never returned. All of it seemed rather silly to Raylan, but she had learned countless times over the past week that to voice this was firmly frowned upon. Several times she had said this, but it would only result in others trying desperately to prove her wrong. The dance instructor, this Madame Giry as she had quickly learned, seemed particularly interested in making Raylan a believer. Raylan had over time become tired of fighting them over it though, and so whenever they spoke of him she would remain silent, allowing her opinions to linger in her own mind. It was the day of the performance, and although every person was in a rush to finish Raylan's fellow seamstresses had somehow found the time to chat about their dear opera ghost. Raylan simply rolled her eyes and continued to stitch in silence, trying to ignore the conversation of the phantom's past that has been repeated for the hundredth time this week.

There was a polite tap on the costume department door. Madame Dacio growled furiously, muttering colorful and elaborate curses under her breath as the knock sounded. She practically threw her sowing needle down, the long thin strip of metal slicing through the air on its decent to the ground and barely missing someone's foot as it was imbedded into the rug. Her short, stubby legs carried her as fast as she could manage to the door, aged fingers wrapping about the frosty door knob and she ripped the door back. Her mouth had been poised to release a thunderous complaint but as soon as the knocker was in view that anger dissipated into retained irritation. "What is it Captain Dress?" Madame Dacio said through gritted teeth.

Outside the door stood a rather aged man, his heavy eyes blue suggesting being some place in his fifties. He had broad shoulders and an old fashion look to his image, the white hair and beard and plain tattered clothing. The only thing that looked particularly unusual was the enormous boot he had strapped onto his feet. His voice was husky and soft as he said, "Pardon me, Milady. I'm terribly sorry ta barge int. But, Vits is requestin' Miss Raylan. Twon't take but a moment. And Vits's is really irritated today, I'd rather not anger her anymore-if ya catch me drift." He sounded slightly worried.

Madame Dacio groaned and looked to Raylan, saying tersely, "Make it quick. We have work to do." Raylan nodded then and rose, carefully placing her things down before following the captain out the room.

On the walk there Captain Dres tried to make for small talk, but it was fairly short lived as Raylan's responses were rather short from the sudden rising nerves. Dres smiled at her though, a small comforting grin that offered support and kindness, "Tis alright lass. Vits ain't really that mad-at ya at least- ta Patron's a different story."

She nodded and smiled timidly, "I was hoping as much, but if she isn't mad at me, what does she want? It's not like her to call me out of work."

Dres shrugged, "Tis up ta her, Lass. I jest follow orders, ain't wise ta ask too many questions with Vits."

Raylan nodded and laughed gently, "This is true."

He nodded his head in agreement as they reached the stage. Once there he bowed gentlemanly and departed. Raylan had barely had time to look for Vits before her voice called out strong and demanding from the rafters above, "Raylan! You've got a visitor!" She glanced up to see Vits hanging upside down, her legs wrapped about a rafter as she fiddled with one of the wires meant to hold up the back drop. Vits gestured in the direction left of the stage before yelling warningly, "Make it quick. I don't need Dacio on my ass because you loitered!"

Raylan looked in the direction Vits had pointed, her breath turning instantly into a gasp of surprise. Her face curved into a broad grin, and suddenly she screeched, her voice ringing excitedly through the opera house, "Ethan!"

This man stood practically center stage in his ripped blue jeans and sleeveless white dirt stained shirt. His build was strong and wide, with broad shoulders and finely shaped muscles, his skin an even and delicious tan. He had a sculpted, angular face; with thin, quirky lips and stormy blue eyes to complete is roughly suave appearance. His hair was an oil black, wavy and wind tousled that barely stroked his shoulders. The people upon the stage eyed him curiously, the males with a look of envy or disgust while the females expressed an entirely different emotion. The females giggled and whispered about him, the ballerinas especially who continued to try and draw his eyes with a seductive sway of their hips, but never once did he look their way as his gaze was focused upon the young seamstress running at him full speed.

She ran to him, Ethan taking her into his large arms, engulfing her in a bear hug. His strong Southern tenor voice sounded joyous, "Well if it ain't my baby sister- damn girl, you really did make it here."

"Hey cowboy!" Raylan cried gleefully, burying her face into his shoulder length black hair, snuggling him roughly until her pushed her back, holding her out before him and looking her over skeptically.

"Hell girl, your skin an' bones," He laughed, taking her chin in his large hands gently, "What you been eatin'?"

"Not much," She laughed, pulling him towards her into another hug and wrapping her arms about his waist, "Lord Ethan, I can't believe you are here."

She released him, taking a step back to look at him fondly. A smile was plastered on both their faces, one that either suggested faked happiness or an over amount of excitement from being so long departed. When the crowds about them had finished eyeing the new male, Raylan's smile softened some as she questioned gently, "But really, Ethan, what are you doing here?"

Ethan looked into her eyes, his own conveying a deeper meaning that only they understood. "Just lookin' after you lil sis. You didn't think we'd let you have all the fun now did you? Momma and Poppa been worried as hell since you gone, they sent all our _brothers _over here to find you. They mostly went over towards England and Whales, thinkin' ya'd stick to higher society."

Her eyes had grown wide, and for a moment her mouth curved into a cunning grin, "Well- that should distract them for some time. I guess I'm not as detectable as I thought."

Ethan nodded, "Hopefully it will keep them busy. I take it you don't want to be found quite yet, lil sis. Your secret's safe with me."

Raylan nodded, "I know- but hey- just incase, you are going to keep an eye out for them right? I know our _brothers_ can be rather persistent."

Ethan smiled his dazzling smile, several of the ballerinas still watching swooning as he did. His voice came out soft, but still completely significant, "I'll always keep an eye out for our _brothers_-and waylay them if necessary."

"See- this is why I love you," She laughed, pulling him once more into a sisterly embrace. She released him only once the hug began to turn from enjoyed to uncomfortable. "Oh," She grinned broadly and took a step back, "Ethan- I would like you to meet someone."

"Really?" His smile turned into a quirky grin, "This someone a female or a male?"

Raylan smirked, "Why do you care?"

He laughed, "Because as your brother- it's my job to know."

"Female- she's my room mate," She smiled and then turned her eyes towards the rafters, shouting up to her, "Vits come down here- I want you to meet some one."

Vits paused, still swearing. She called back in her rich, and colorful, baritone voice, "Can't you see I'm doing something!" She was still hanging upside down trying to fix the bleeding chains.

Raylan yelled back, she had learned how to respond to Vits over the past week, "You can spare a few seconds!"

Vits glared at her, and with a few grumbling curses, she shinnied down the ropes; similar to a sailor's climbing the rigging. She was almost like a graceful monkey as she swung down the ropes, and landed on the stage with a soft thud. She walked over to Raylan, a sway of irritation in her hips as she approached, "What the bloody hell do you want?"

Raylan in a much more pleasant voice gestured to Ethan, "Vits, this is my brother Ethan- come to visit me from America. Ethan, this is my room mate and stage director Vits."

Ethan extended an arm, offering a firm handshake to Vits, "Nice to meet ya ma'am."

Vits's handshake nearly crushed his hand. She had a firm grip beyond what any female was meant to have. She didn't say anything, but nodded instead, impatient to get back to work, and then on to the rest of her long list of things to get done before the night's performance.

"Wow," His face expressed delightful surprise, "Quite a handshake you got there. Well ma'am, suppose I should thank you for takin' care of my little sister- that was mighty fine of you."

Vits looked Raylan over as if she were looking over a cow to sell, "She earns her keep."

He nodded, "I have no doubt- but still- thanks for whatever you did." He grinned, that same flattering smile and then released her hand as he turned to face Raylan. "Well- I better be lettin' yall get back to your jobs. Wouldn't want to get you in too much trouble," His smile was tender and he cupped Raylan's chin in his hands, "Listen, I'm staying at the Cervantes Inn a few miles down the road from here. Come visit me some time- I'll be checkin' in on you in the next week or so."

Vits had quickly disappeared once he had said this, rudely not saying a polite goodbye before heading into the rafters again, working with those chains that she almost had finished.

Ethan had noticed this but instead of taking it offensively he simply laughed, "Well- she sure ain't the friendly one."

"No- she ain't," Raylan agreed, touching his hand lightly before releasing a despairing sigh, "I will visit you when I can. Until then," She pulled him into another embrace, whispering into his ears, "Stay safe."

"You stay safe too," He whispered back, only then releasing her and striding out of the opera house before any more words could be exchanged.

The Performance of _Cosi fan Tuute_ had commenced that night, the hilarious comedy written by the most famous Mozart ending up being a smash hit. Carlotta had gotten several standing ovations, and Vits, who had sung under the original male lead, had been left alone which is exactly the way she wanted it. Time had passed since then, the Parisian clocks now chimed midnight, as Vits stood on the stage again, the lights still on from the previous performance. Her green eyes carefully and cautiously looked out over the empty auditorium. She was alone. With a sigh of relied Vits walked to center stage, and took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts for the moment. Then she reached inside herself. Vits's body moved with a graceful rhythm of a well practiced ballet dancer. However her experience dancing didn't stop at ballet, she knew nearly every form of dance, and used it freely often entwining several at once. Tonight she moved of triumph, her body spoke of success, of hard work paying off. To say she was astounding would be a gross understatement, Vits was amazing, and that just barely scratched the surface. Her dancing changed, its tone moving from an exciting triumph to pathetic failure, a down hill struggle against the unstoppable tide. She moved maintaining her exquisite grace and beauty. Though Vits held a man's body in everyway-including voice, she maintained a dancer's small elegant feet. Her feet were long and graceful, but still tiny. They almost looked too small to support her weight, and what Vits demanded of them. Yet they danced flawlessly, expressing the emotions she put through her movements, and they expressed them well. The dance went through the slow depression, slowly building speed as it spiraled downwards, pausing on the brink of destruction, only to flit back, and dance along the edge, daring fate to end the life. She tempted fate's decision, fate's control, through her movements. Then before fate had made up its mind entirely, Vits leaped back into triumph, throwing away her desperation, her pain, her losses. She seized fate's hesitation to leap away from the brink and triumph once more.

Within the aisles however, the shadowed figure of a woman was edging slowly along as to not disturb the performance. She had followed her room mate out of their quarters that night after faking sleep, curious as to the nocturnal habits of her companion. Raylan took a seat in one of the rows placed furthest away from the stage, leaning into the shadow of the dimly lit auditorium and propping her feat up on the back of the seat in front of her. In silent awe she watched her companion move, so graceful and exquisite- not at all what you would expect from the crude tom boy she was by day. To the residence of the Opera Populaire she was this foul mouthed, vicious and demanding male, but now in the solitude of darkness she was truly a woman- an astounding, beautiful and magical woman. She moved with such firing passion, bending the stage, the night, the audience to her will, and they all submitted to her beauty. It was like they were kissing Aphrodite's feet, her magical feet. Raylan felt a shortness of breath as she watched the emotion that only something truly amazing could provoke.

Dark eyes watched from the shadow of box five, from behind a cold and sculpted mask. His lips moved, counting the rhythm of his enchantment on the stage. The potential she held was beyond any mortal dreams, and she knew it. If only he could force-no, convince her to use it. She could become what Christine wanted, and so much more. The fame that Christine had wanted… his Christine. Christine…

His heart wretched with pain, his gloved hands wringing the arm rests of his box chair fretfully. Damn her; curse her for leaving him- leaving him again to this shadowed hell! But no, not curse. He could not wish harm upon her; he still loved his Angel of Music. He always would.

With a heavy sigh his attention returned the graceful figure dancing on the stage. She could be so much more than what she was, she could even out due her mother, the most famous Opera singer in Europe, and one of the greatest dancers. What baffled him was that she had no desire. She knew she could so easily prove everyone's preconceived notions of her, but she refused. Instead she danced in the dark of the night, alone. Why, was the question that rang through his mind, and echoed behind the mask through his eyes. Why did she dance when no one was watching, and remain so silent during the day? Why didn't she prove them all wrong? That she could out do them all, in a heartbeat, and permanently force Carlotta, the prima donna witch, into the quiet solitude of being washed-up as she deserved? Vits perplexed him; she had not the desire to achieve fame, as most that walked through the Opera Populaire's doors. She was content where she was, being the set director.

The creak of a chair down below drew the mask away from the hidden beauty on the stage. Someone had intruded upon his private performance. His eyes narrowed behind the mask, as he stood, to achieve a better view of the shadows in which the thief tried to hide. But, alas, the shadows were his, for he knew them all. It was the new girl. The seamstress. She would pay for her invasion of his moments with his prodigy. She would pay.

Raylan had taken no notice of the danger above, nor anything else in the room that was not an inch from Vits's feet. All her senses, all her attention was captivated in those steps, those steps that spun so perfectly and jumped to meet the air as gracefully as a bird taking flight. She consumed the room with her dance, seduced them into her feelings- her world. So many emotions hurled forward like a title wave, gradually building you up before crashing over you and drowning you in her emotional abyss. There were not enough words, not enough emotions to describe what she stirred in Raylan, feelings that Ray had long since buried and forgotten, only now Vits twisted these emotions with such expertise that they no longer seemed intolerable but instead something Ray desperately wished to feel again.

She clung to the magic Vits created, held tight like a child who had been departed from its parent for far too long. She never wished to let go, never desired to lose herself in that labyrinth she had hidden away in ever again but the most curious of feelings rang high and alarming above the others. An internal alarm struck her in her gut, distracting her from the magic and once more crushing her emotions away into their cells. It screamed in her ears, tightened in her chest and tensed every muscle- this emotion that viciously warned her that she was being watched.

He stood within the shadows of the thick velvet curtain of his private box. The stage lights reflected off the white of his mask as he watched the trespasser steal his moment. He observed her as she drank in the emotions that Vits so proudly displayed His scrutiny fell into completion, as he watched her body tense up. His impenetrable gaze broke through her ignorance of the rules. Vits was his alone beneath the shadow of the moon. She danced under his constant watch. This woman would pay for this trespass.

Raylan did not doubt this feeling, this awareness. She had learned long ago how great of an aspect it truly was- how someone like her could not afford to question these warnings. Her feet connected with the floor smoothly, her body rising with no detectable sound from the seat into a crouch behind the aisle before her, angling herself so that she squatted low enough so that her eyes were barely peering over the back cushion. Concealing herself in the shadow that the aisle provided her eyes searched thoroughly along the auditorium, along every row of seats and dark corners that her gaze could reach. When she had determined that the lower levels were clear she allowed her eyes to drift up, critically surveying the boxes mounted several feet above. She had nearly finished with no avail when she came upon Box Five, the supposed box that was to be kept for the Opera's most famous specter.

She had almost convinced herself to skip over it, saying that she would be proving that she was becoming as superstitious as the others if she examined that particular box, but she had given in to the temptation. Her breath had caught in her throat, her eyes squinting to determine that what she was seeing was not some light illusion. There was a white mask, illuminating through the darkness, watching her crouched form. She blinked several times, determined to believe it was her sleep deprived mind playing tricks on her, but when the mask had not vanished she stared dumbly at it. Could it be? Could it truly be him? No, she would not be fooled so easily. She did not believe in ghosts, how many times did she have to say it before these damned believers would stop trying to prove to her that this phantom was real? Anger tightened in her stomach, her lips thinning into a harsh frown. Another trick, she thought bitterly, another someone trying to make a fool out of her. She had had just about enough of this game.

The eyes watched her, his mouth turning into a slow smile. He knew her how she felt about him. He knew that she refused to believe he existed. Foolish girl. It was time to convert the heathen. His voice rang out across the theater, his lips barely moving a muscle as he boomed, "How dare you interrupt _my _private performance with your pathetic attempts to hide from my sight. I live in the shadows Raylan. They _are_ mine. You can't possibly use them against me." Vits, lost within her own world, continued her dance with no hint of hearing this.

Raylan froze, still and poised as a cat, her dark eyes keeping a steady gaze on the mask. Had he spoke her name? Truly it had to be someone she knew, someone who wished to frighten her with the ridiculous story of an opera ghost. One of the seamstresses? One of the stage hands? Madame Giry perhaps, she had seemed rather persistent to make Raylan believe. Keeping firm to this belief she remained in her place, her eyes keeping a criticizing glare upon the mask as she said softly, "I don't believe in ghosts."

"It would be wise for you to start," The words came from across the room, a dark nook that she had over looked.

Swiftly she diverted her gaze towards the voice, her eyes searching fretfully through the darkness. When she spoke though there was not fear in her voice but the soft hint of curiosity as she questioned, "Who are you? I refuse to believe in a phantom, but a man on the other hand."

"I am the Phantom of the Opera" The position of the voice changed again, to another box close to the stage. His eyes never left her though. Those cold hard eyes bored into her soul. "Phantom, man and Spirit," Again the words came from a different place. This time they came from right behind her, along with a chill that sent shivers down her spine.

Raylan spun about, only this time surprisingly launched to her feet, fists raised and poised to strike. Her chest was heaving from her rushed breaths, her heart pounding mercilessly in her ears. There was no one in that darkness behind her, her eyebrows creasing with confusion as her arms dropped back to her sides. Her voice was slightly wavered but still strong as she muttered, "Whoever you are, your tricks will not work- you don't frighten me."

His laughter rang out across the theater. It was an unnerving laughter of someone having just gotten the reaction that they wanted. "That's what they all told me, until they found my lasso strangling the life from their necks. Their beliefs changed as they took their dying breaths," The voice returned to box five then as it spoke with a dark threat.

Strangely a smirk crawled over her lips as she turned back to face box five, her eyes lying gently upon the white mask that still lingered above. Her voice was surprisingly soft and significant, suggesting much hidden meaning beneath her words as she said, "If you are the phantom of the opera, and take pleasure in knowing the people of your opera house, then you will soon discover Monsieur that death does not frighten me. Of all things, I would welcome death."

"There are punishments worse than death," He responded in a quiet tone that carried across the theater, and spoke volumes of threats.

She nodded, and once again her tone held some significance to it, "Indeed- there are." Her gaze dropped from him then, staring absently at the shadow that box five displayed across the wall. Her eyes were distant only for a moment before she drew herself from the turmoil of her mind to stare once again curiously at the mask in the shadows. "Ghost or man? Show me one and I will do my best to believe," Her tone was actually one of a demand and not a request.

"I am both and I am neither," His voice was tart. He didn't like ultimatums, especially from some thoughtless girl. Still, he had no time to indulge this seamstress. Vits performance had ended and she had silently slipped from the stage, leaving the two of them to quarrel, but he had to deliver a message to his prodigy, not remain questioning this imprudent female. With an elegant swirl of his cloak, the Phantom of the Opera disappeared into nights shadows. The darkness closed around the solitary inquirer, the candles died as the night's chill whistled through the empty, haunted auditorium. Many questions were still left on Raylan's lips. Those questions still unanswered. She would have to wait.


	8. Dancing With Loneliness

**Alright everyone, I would really like some reviews on this please. I desperately need to know what you all think of this, whether it is good or bad. This and the post tomorrow are my last posts before I disappear for a week and am unable to update. When I come back if there is evidence that you wish for us to continue than I will. If not well then I take that as a sign that it is crap and not worth continuing. Thank you everyone.**

**-Olivia N.**

The Patron muttered to himself angry curses, his stride covering the wooden floors. Everything had to go wrong didn't it? Carlotta was threatening to leave, and she just might. That had to be avoided by all costs; there wasn't another to fill her place. Christine Daae wasn't going to pop up to save the day again. It was all over the stupid note that some Phantom sent her, degrading the prima donna to no end and threatening to hurt her if she remained within the Opera Populaire. It was most likely a hoax; no one would dare lay a hand on the prima donna, and he absolutely refused to believe in any Opera Ghost, or the supernatural. The whole house was entirely too superstitious.

He threw the doors open to the shop with such force that they nearly broke off their already worn down hinges. His eyes scanned the men working, each doing a pre assigned task, and doing it diligently. However, he was looking for the man which wasn't entirely a man. She's close enough, anyway, he thought. But alas, she wasn't there. The men stopped their working, all turning slowly to face him, and all looked peeved at his intrusion. They waited, getting slightly grumpier. One of them, an older man, possibly the oldest of them all, and his white hair stuck out at odd angles, as if he never brushed it. However his faded shirt was clean, a softened red, and his pants looked almost as old as he was. He had the air of a gentle grandfather. However his blue eyes shown with steel from within. The Patron asked harshly, annoyed that she wouldn't be there when he needed her. What was he paying her for!

"Where is she?" He yelled, not bothering to be polite with these ruffian commoners. The old man, looked the Patron over, as if seeing if they could take him on. As a group there was no contest.

The old man crossed his arms, a stern look crossing his aged face. "It's 'er day off," He told his employer, with a hint of a solid steel back bone.

The Patron nearly exploded. "What do you mean she's taking the day off!" He exclaimed, nearly at the top of his shrill voice.

The old man looked him over again, "She takes one day a year off. This is it."

The Patron grumbled, "Well go find her! I need her now!"

The group collectively pulled their tools closer to their bodies, taking a fighting stance. "We won't," He answered.

The Patron was getting angrier, "You-you there what's your name?"

"Captain Dres. I'm second in command," The man responded with an air of pride.

The Patron looked him over, "You're now first. Chalondra Vitusia, no longer works for the Opera Populaire." As soon as these words came out though the men took a step back, not in fear, but merely to get a better range to attack.

"Then we'll all walk," Another man answered.

The Patron looked the group over collectively. Fear lit into his eyes. He couldn't understand their loyalty. "Why do you stick up for her? All she does is swear at you."

They shook their heads and another spoke up, "She may swear, but she watches out for us, she truly cares about our well being, our families. She makes sure we all get paid before she sees a cent, and she'll even make up the difference that you screw up. She'll always take care of us. She expects out of us, what she expects from herself, no more, no less. We give it to her."

The Patron saw he couldn't win. He swore under his breath. There were other things he had to do today. "Tell her I wish to see her immediately once she returns!"

Dres spoke "She'll be told tomorrow, when we see her, sir." The title didn't hold any respect. In fact it was added as an insult. The patron in a storming fury stalked off, shouting irritably about how the morning had already been wasted.

Vits leaned against the railing, saving her from a plunge into the muddy brown waters of the Sine. The sun was rising over the tops of the buildings in a glorious Parisian sunrise, but she didn't feel the beauty today. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, although she fought to hold them back. Every year she promised she would not cry, and she never kept it. She locked all the doors to her emotions every day, but this one. She had to feel today, the memory was still to painful. The wound was still too fresh. Her mind cruelly relived the day, watching him die. Briefly Vits pulled herself from the entrancing gaze of the Sine's waters, reminding her of her true home: the sea. She glanced towards the buildings their fine lines blurred by the tears. She paused, making a weak attempt to pull herself together. It would fail, but she had to try. Otherwise she'd be looking back down the depressing road of her past. The memories would replay again. She'd seen them a thousand times, but still, she would watch them a thousand more.

"Hey there sweetheart," A friendly voice interrupted her thoughts, that strong southern tone breaking all concentration, "What you doin' out here all by yourself?"

Vits lifted her head from where it had fallen, back to the waters. Her eyes turned to him, filled with unspeakable anger and hate. Her tone was cold, and a little shaky, "What the hell do you want?" She wanted to be left alone, alone to wash herself in her memories, to say goodbye again.

He grinned playfully, not intimidated by her brute tone, "Whoa there hun, didn't mean no harm or nothing, I was just takin' a walk and I noticed you out here. Just thought I'd say hello that's all, you know, be polite as most people do."

"Then you'd be ever so polite as to leave me alone" Her tone was ice with fake sugar sprinkled over it.

He nodded, "I could." Ethan did not speak another word, but instead simply leaned on the railing beside her, staring out into the murky waters of the Sine. He was silent for only a short time before speaking up again, casually chatting as he stated, "You know, the Sine looks very similar to the Mississippi back home, murky water makes them alike. You ever been to the states?"

Vits turned away, she didn't want to talk. Then against her will, a soft sob slipped out, and the tears started anew.

Ethan had of course caught this, instantly his cheery smile slipping into a concerned frown. "What's wrong sweetheart?" He asked, his strong southern accent coming out smooth and gentle.

"None of your damn business," Came the reply, she still kept her back from him

He looked slightly disgruntled after her response, but still prodded gently. "I don't mean no harm hun," His voice was still that annoyingly calm and comforting, "I was just trying to help that's all. You seem upset so I was just... well... sometimes it helps to talk about what's botherin' you."

"I don't want to talk about it,"

"Well that's fine, I suppose. Maybe just some company to keep off the loneliness then?" He offered her a hopeful smile, the kind that showed that he greatly doubted she would accept his offer.

"If you want company there are plenty of whorehouses. I suggest you go find one."

The smile vanished from his face and instead he glared firmly at her, the words coming out coldly as he questioned, "You think I'm that low? I wasn't trying to pick your ass up, just trying to be a shoulder to cry on- a gentleman some would call it. Apparently though all I'm being is an inconvenience to you." He gave her a sweeping bow, his shoulders stiff with agitation when he rose back into a straight stance, shoving his hands firmly into his pockets. "Well, au revoir Mademoiselle. I hope you are capable of finding comfort alone," His voice was bitter, but he still remained that eerie calm, casually turning his back on her and walking back down the way he had come.

Vits shrugged, and slipped herself back into her memories, watching her father being shot to death. The sobs came now, she couldn't hold them back. She may not have been necessarily intending to lash out at Ethan, but he had been there. Vits let the sun rise, and slowly dry her tears. She had finished. She refused to allow herself to cry, anymore. It would be another year before she allowed herself to feel the pain of her father's death.

Night had fallen; the stage remained lit to ward off any ghosts. Vits walked out on to center stage. She looked around. The shadows were quiet tonight, offering the comfort she needed as she began to dance. However tonight held a sadder tune. Her movements were a slow lament to those lost. She quietly told the story of her father's death, watching him die. Her body moved in all its graceful slenderness with the sorrows of the world weighing it down. Her movements held the tears her eyes could not. Her heart broke within her dancing, her cheeks shone with her crying. Towards the end of her dancing, the pace quickened, her steps moved faster, gaining the anger of loosing someone she wasn't supposed to have lost. She quickly told of her anger, and the clashes of that. Her movements pleaded for revenge. A revenge that never came. She would never feel the sweet taste of avenging her father's wrongful death. Her steps slowed with the sorrow of such a failure. The dance had ended on the same tone it began, the ultimate pain of the heart. Now hers was broken, shattered into pieces that would never be whole again.

It was the second night in a row that Raylan had attended Vits's lonely ceremony, sitting as far back and into shadow as she possibly could be. She had watched her room mate with the same awe as she had the night before, with the same unspoken marvel that so magically aroused her lost emotions. There was a freedom she felt when Vits danced, a power she emitted that caused Raylan to feel ultimately weightless, as if her soul could float away and she would never be cursed to return to the horrible fate her skin bound her to. Tonight though her soul did not fly for her emotions followed the same pain as Vits's dance, dragging her to the very pits of hell before rising back to this lonely earth. Her heart had begun to shatter as Vits's did, but she had forced her feelings behind in time before the dance had ended and the final dreaded statement had its chance to cripple her heart entirely. A heavy sigh had escaped her lips when Vits took her final steps, her body slumping back into the chair as she raised a hand to her eyes, stifling the tears that threatened to fall. She longed to run to her companion, to take this broken woman into her arms and relieve her of her pain. How could she help though, her mind had bitterly reminded her, how could any one like her be of assistance when she herself could find no solitude?

Vits stood, letting the final tears fall before disappearing into the darkness of backstage. She had abandoned Raylan to the lonely air she left behind, to the lingering pain that kept these haunted shadows at bay. Raylan stood, sighing deeply. The dance was over; she had seen what she had come for. Straightening her skirts she had begun to walk away when she noticed something unusual. A gentle breeze flowed around Raylan, a curious draft unnatural to the still night. She froze, instantly her muscles becoming tense as she glanced suspiciously around. "You," She whispered gently, "Are you here?"

"I am always here," The voice came from the auditorium, but seemed to whisper from every dark corner the place contained making it nearly impossible to point out where it truly originated from.

She glanced around, searching for the white masked image. Several times she turned around in circles, searching every corner of the darkness with keen eyes. "Where?" She questioned softly, "Show yourself."

The white of his mask appeared in the distance for a moment, and then it disappeared. To her right the figure of a man with his back to her materialized then vanished. To her left, a single red rose with a black silk ribbon was placed upon the edge of the box by a black gloved hand. Then he appeared in full glory in his usual roost, box five. His voice was lusciously dark as he rumbled, "I am where I want to be."

Raylan was breathing heavily, her heart pounding furiously in her chest once more, thudding rhythms in her ears. Her body was completely tense as she whirled about, following his changing image until he came to settle in his box. Curiously her eyes fell upon him with a look of pure fascination, a small amused smile creasing over her face as she questioned, "Don't you ever stay in one place?"

"Why would I do that? It is better to hide by moving than by standing still,"

"This is true," Her smile faded and once again her eyes looked distant, but only for a short time before she pulled herself back to this moment, staring up at this masked man. Her voice was surprisingly tender as she asked with a forced innocence, "What is it you wish of me Monsieur Phantom? I do not believe you would linger here without a purpose."

The Phantom nodded, "I wish to know the reason why you have come here." His demand was simply stated as if expecting her to admit her reason easily.

She replied nonchalantly, as if the answer should be obvious, "I came to watch Vitusia dance."

"Not tonight, my pet. But here in the Opera Populaire. Why have you come here?"

"My pet?" She raised her eyebrows questioningly but shook it off, "As to why I am here, I thought you would have known that I came for work."

He chuckled softly as an adult would when listening to an immature statement of a child, "There are other motives than that. There always are."

"I'm sure there are," She said, but stubbornly didn't finish.

"Indeed there are," He took her silence as a confirmation, "But what are those true reasons?"

"My reasons are my own," She hissed, crossing her arms firmly over her chest.

The Phantom smiled from behind his mask, "Yes they are." He held a knowing smile; he knew that he would get answers out of her, one way or another.

Raylan looked at him curiously, continuing to stare through the dark at the harsh white mask. Several uncomfortable minutes of silence passed, he making no hints to leaving and she beginning to fidget with uncertainty. Raylan's hand had somehow found its way to her mouth where she began to nervously bite on her thumb nail until she suddenly ceased. "Well," She cleared her throat softly, "Monsieur, I suppose if you require nothing more of me I shall say goodnight." She had not waited to see if he would object, her movements quick as she retreated from the auditorium, moving at almost a run towards her room.

Minutes later Raylan had entered the apartment she shared with Vits silently, her steps light and her head low as if she feared being discovered when she came in. Vits was sitting at the table, buried in plans, and designs, she was idly sketching on paper, another plan. She worked out complex calculations on the side trying to figure out the exact angles, or lengths of wood needed, and then what she could get away with for using the least expensive-which often led to more complex calculations. She sighed trying to figure out the exact angle for a beam to be able to place the most weight on it, and keep the wood to a minimum; it was for a second story. Raylan closed the door with the utmost caution and then some what tip toed over to her sofa bed, landing upon it gently and then pausing to look steadily at Vits. She fidgeted twiddling her thumbs in her lap as she stared at Vits, a look of hesitance in her eyes. Her voice came out shyly as she softly complemented, "You're... You're dancing was lovely tonight."

Vits looked up, her eyes narrowing as the words processed, pushing out the complex calculations. Her tone was a harsh accusation, "You watched?"

She nodded and answered timidly, "...Yes."

"Why?" It was a coarse demand, not a question.

"...I don't know," She answered honestly, "I suppose I...I was curious."

Vits ground her teeth, but spoke with a hidden threat, "Swear not to tell a soul."

"What?" Raylan's eyebrows narrowed with confusion, "Why? Vits, you are amazing."

"Because the fools here do not deserve to know"

Raylan looked perplexed for an instant but then seemed to understand as she nodded gradually, "Understandable...I won't say a word Vits, I swear it."

She nodded, "Thank you" Strange enough it was a soft appreciation. There was obviously more to this than Vits would ever let on.

For a few moments Raylan was silent, but this was short lived as she quickly jumped into the question that had been lingering in her mind, "So why do you dance?"

"I dance for myself. It's a form of expression, the other side of what I express outside this room," She shrugged, dancing was natural for her, after her mother was the greatest dancer in Europe, but she didn't want to follow her mother's footsteps.

"Like my writing," Raylan commented lightly, and then continued with her questioning, "How did you learn?"

Vits looked at her, unsure if she was ready to indulge in every secret she carried. Vits settled for somewhere in between complete truth and out right lying, "I taught myself. I failed out of the ballet school here, when I first arrived. But I watched them in my spare time. It's not really that hard."

Raylan's eyes narrowed, "So you taught yourself to dance like that?"

Vits nodded, leaving it there.

Raylan was not satisfied, that much was clear, but biting her lip she commanded herself to keep quiet. Several minutes she watched Vits, waiting for another conversation to spark up but when her room mate seemed to only want to be fixed on her work Raylan nestled herself into her couch. She sighed, closing her eyes partially, listening to her rhythmic breathing. It had not been long until she found her way into the comfort of sleep.

Over the week Raylan had trained herself to wake at least an hour before dawn, giving herself plenty of time to prepare and cook breakfast for her room mate and herself. Sluggishly she had drug herself from bed, that morning making herself as presentable as she could manage and then going straight to the kitchen. She started some tea, and after shuffling around had come across some eggs and bread. Heating up the stove she began the meal, hoping that her movement and the smell of breakfast would waken Vits. She didn't want to have to physically wake her again; Vits did not like Raylan entering her room.

As hoped, Vits blearily walked through the curtain, and sat at the table, groaning slight. She ran a hand through her disheveled hair, which straightened it out to its normal raggedness, noting that it was time for another haircut. She never truly woke up though until after her tea.

Raylan did not so much offer breakfast as she did demand it, placing the plate of two eggs and toast in front of Vits before devouring her own.

Vits nibbled at her food, as she usually did. She wasn't much of an eater and never really would be. She did however drink all of her tea, letting it wake her up, as she waited for another day to come.

"How did you sleep?" Raylan said between swallows as an act of courtesy.

Vits shrugged "Like I usually do...however I wish I could get a few more hours." She shrugged, "Such is the price for taking a day off." Vits finally refused to eat any more and instead rose to gather up her plans and headed out the door without saying any form of a goodbye. They were preparing for the next play. The Opera was taking its yearly tour of Shakespeare before the masque ball. They did this every year, only it was different plays. They usually were able to fit in two plays. This year it was going to be Midsummer Night's dream and Romeo and Juliet. However, neither were the original text, some one had completely rearranged the plots to appease current fashion. Vits hated this; she had read Shakespeare's untouched versions and thought them better than the dribble written to amuse audiences. But Management fell deaf to her complaints.

Raylan nodded and slowly consumed the remainder of her breakfast. She had become use to Vits rude acts, knowing that although she rarely showed appreciation of you verbally you indeed could find it in her eyes. Chugging the rest of her tea down Raylan swiftly moved from the table, taking Vits barely touched plate before crazily beginning to clean. She was done in no time, finally gathering all her things and bolting out the door to begin her days work.

Raylan had entered the costume department as silently as possible, never wishing to interrupt or join in the conversation of the rumors her fellow seamstresses were so feverishly spreading. Often it was of the Opera Ghost, each one making up their own little tales of times they had seen or interacted with him, but today when she entered their whispering had suspiciously come to an uneasy halt, each one turning a curious eye upon Raylan. She froze in the door way, returning the stare that her coworkers were sending so questioningly at her.

This was continually exchanged until Madame Dacio chimed in shakily, suppressing a malicious grin and snicker, "Hello Raylan. Glad to see you made it on time."

Raylan nodded and looked suspiciously around, her eyebrows narrowing as she glared. Her voice was cold as she inquired, "What's going on here?"

They all looked at her with wide eyed innocence, pausing in their work. One of the bolder girls looked her over coldly, like she was piece of meat to sell. "We were just discussing the Phantom's appearance last night, in box five and the voice that was heard answering him," She added smugly looking at her, with a haughty air.

Raylan raised her eyebrows and scoffed again, "Not him again. I can't believe you all still think those silly superstitions are true." She played it off coolly, her lie completely believable.

Another chimed, "You don't have to lie to us, and we all know the truth. You were seen with him last night."

"Me?" She laughed and crossed her arms coolly over her chest, leaning on the door and looking each of them over like they were crazy, "Alright, first of all, if I had been with him how on earth would anyone see because as I recall from your endless chatter he disguises himself and is never seen. And second of all, I was in my room last night." Once again her lie sounded completely believable.

They all giggled, "Of course you were." It was obvious that they didn't believe a word of it; of course, they all had a different story of what she had been doing. Whispers started across the room, slowly growing into quiet squabbling. They only thing Raylan could understand was her name.

Raylan rolled her eyes and ignored them, taking her place and fiddling pointlessly with her needle and thread. Her ears tried to catch what they were saying, trying to understand how this could have happened. She had been sure the auditorium had been empty that night, certain she, Vits, and the Phantom had been the only ones. So how on earth did they find out?

After at least an hour of these mutter rumors it finally seemed like seamstress could no longer control themselves. They absolutely hated getting no reaction from Raylan-something they lived for. The older ones began to push and coerce some of the younger children into asking her, the whispers wildly flying around the room. Finally someone had visibly forced the youngest child into asking her. The child was no more than five, and stood half as tall as Raylan. She didn't quite know how to act yet, and the child was tiny. She had much to learn, and was easily forced into doing things by the older girls, which her innocent eyes saw as her sisters. The girl was used to run new bobbles of thread, and needles to the seamstresses around the room. She had golden curls, and blue eyes. The girl, herself, was entirely sweet and innocent, at prey for the older girls merely looking for a role model. Encouraged by her crude peer she quietly tugged at Raylan's skirt to get her attention. Her blue eyes were wide with fear. The girl paused looking back at her role models who nodded and waved their hand at her to go on. They giggled and whispered once the girl turned her back. She didn't suspect a thing. Instead she turned, and waited for Raylan's attention, nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot. She looked like she held half a mind to turn and run, but the peer pressure kept her rooted on the spot.

Raylan turned slowly around, lowering a friendly gaze as she smiled to the girl, saying pleasantly, "Hello there and how may I help you?"

The girl looked back to the older girls, who again waved her on, like one would command a servant with such a gesture. Her bottom lip trembled, which she bit, and the blue eyes welled up with tears. She really didn't want to ask the question, but again peer pressure was forcing her to do so. She swallowed, and then asked, visibly trembling like a leaf, "What's it like? What's it like being the Ghost's new pupil?" The girl flinched, ready to run.

Raylan's smile vanished, turning swiftly into a stern frown. For a moment her eyes dance angrily on the little child but once the snickering of the others had become audible she directed a furious gaze their way. She stood, the small girl taking a fearful step back as she did so; however she simply patted the little girls head and walked past her. Quickly she stormed over to the older girls, stopping just inches before them and sending a blazing glare at all of them. Her words were simple and vicious as she said, "Next time you want to make assumptions about me, be mature enough to ask me yourself. This," She pointed back to the girl, "this was low."

The young child, not entirely sure what the conversation was about, but knowing it was about her, began to cry feverishly. The older girls scowled at their younger coworker. This caused the child to flee crying out into the hall. They looked back to Raylan, settling her with glares, almost as nasty as hers. Then they returned to their work, and gossip completely ignoring Raylan standing in front of them.

Raylan rolled her eyes and turned on her heels, going after the little weeping child. When she finally caught up with the girl she calmed her, whipping the tears from her pretty face and saying softly, "It's alright, don't be upset. You did nothing wrong. It was not your fault."

The girl nodded, and sniffled. She was young and had a long way to go. But she needed to harden up-all in due time. The girl swallowed her sobs, and fought back the remaining tears. "Tank you," she hadn't quite learned to talk properly yet.

Raylan nodded and ran a hand through the girls matting blond hair. She smiled tenderly, "So, did you know what those girls were asking you to do?"

The girl silently shook her head, not sure where-or what-this questioning would lead to. She tried to shrink back as if in fear of being hit.

Raylan comforted her, "It's alright; I'm not going to hurt you. I suspected you didn't understand. Did you feel wrong asking me that?"

The girl seemed uneasy, unsure what to say, afraid to anger her. Finally she settled on the truth, and nodded, "Ywes. Phantom dowsn't like t'be talked aboot."

She nodded, "Indeed he doesn't. Listen honey, you shouldn't let mean girls like that pressure you into doing something you don't want to do. You have to stick up for yourself and tell them no. What they asked you to do was wrong, and unfair. Do they bully you like that often?"

The girl nodded. "If, if I down't do whut they ask, they" she paused, fear growing in her innocent eyes, "they threwten ta tell daddy"

"Daddy?" She looked confused, "Why are you afraid of your father knowing?"

She bit her lip, trembling as the tears welled up in her eyes again. She obviously wasn't supposed to tell anyone this, but everyone knew. "Daddy hits me," She said it simply, the truth. In her eyes every father did this, and every child deserved it. She didn't like it, and she was afraid of him, but knowing nothing else this to her was normal.

Raylan's eyes turned to shock and her mouth fell open in disgust. Shaking her head she forced herself not to frown, understanding that this girl would obviously take the reaction as Raylan would hit her. Smoothing out the girls hair Raylan gave her a comforting smile and said kindly, "I want you to listen to me alright? Listen closely. If those girls ever bother you again, just come to me and I will handle them. If your father, now listen to this, if your father lays another hand on you, you can come to me, and I will protect you, you hear me? I will protect you. I am staying in apartment 237, and if anything happens, you are welcome there."


	9. What Are Her Secrets?

**Ok guys. This is the last post for a week or so. PLEASE COMMENT! I would like to see comments when I return. As for Juliette Delphi- being the co-author you don't count... but I still love ya! embrace Alright, well, please review everyone. Thank you, and see yall in a week.**

**-Olivia N.**

The girl shook her head, "I can't."

Concern on Raylan's face increased, "Why not?"

"Because that's what mommy did, after he wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed. Mommy ran away." Actually the girl's father had killed her mother, but he had told her that she ran away, to save his guilty conscience and he had threatened the girl with a similar fate should she do the same. Of course everyone in the Opera house knew of this, but nobody spoke of it.

Raylan stroked the childs cheek comfortingly, "Your daddy wont hurt you if you're with me, I promise you that. I'll protect you if you let me- I wont run away." She felt somewhat guilty for promising the last bit, knowing fully that if the worst was to happen she couldn't stay- she was always running.

The child shook her head, still afraid, "I'm not allowed to talk like that." She looked back towards the sewing room. She knew she was missed, and the others would waste no time ratting her out. She was the lowest of the low in their eyes, and it was sheer pleasure for them to get the little amateur in trouble.

Raylan sighed and shook her head. She couldn't convince this girl, she had made herself believe she deserved what she got. "Alright," Ray groaned and stood straight, "Just remember that- if you ever need me- don't be afraid to ask." She smiled tenderly and made a gesture towards the costume room, "Go on now. Don't want to fall behind on your job. Hurry now."

The girl nodded with a small smile, before scurrying off to the room, and slipping back inside. She would get hell for this-both of them knew, but she had needed that talk.

Raylan sighed and slouched against the closest wall, leaning her head back and staring up at the rafters. She had half expected to see him up there, watching her from the dark, but he wasn't there, although strange enough she had wished he had been. She wanted to inquire with him how someone could have known, who heard and who made up the idea that she was his new pupil? True, she had spoke with him, but she was in no way his pupil. Still, she did want to know how they had found out, and as usually the phantom of the opera was bound to know.

Vits idly walked by, busy as usual on her way somewhere, thinking of something. She paused seeing her roommate. She followed her gaze, up. "He won't be there you know." She answered the unasked question bluntly-her usual form.

Raylan snapped her head down and made a shushing gesture. "Lower your voice," She whispered, "Someone found out that I talked to him and now everyone thinks I'm his new pupil. I don't want to give anyone any reason to think I am."

Vits laughed, the type of laugh that made a person feel insecure, "That's what they say about every new person. Hell they still say it about me. It's their way of getting attention. Obviously it worked."

"How did they find out I spoke with him though? I thought no one was there,"

"They make things up, they don't know, and they never will-unless either of us tell. And no one would believe me if I did, not that I have any interest in the gossip of this damn House. It's their way of making them feel superior," Vits shrugged off the usual antics of the Opera House.

Raylan nodded, "It's immature of them. They made a little girl come ask me what it was like being the phantoms new pupil- they MADE an innocent child do it...the cowards."

Vits nodded, "There are many here. I know of the particular group you are talking about. They were holding the place as a spool runner when I went through there. They will never change. But not all of us are like that," Vits smiled, a rare occasion, "You may have to look twice to find us. But we're there."

Raylan nodded, but her face still looked grim, "I know." She sighed and slowly pushed herself up from the wall, walking towards the costume room. She stopped by Vits side and whispered a small thank you before heading back into the room, back into the mocking and the laughter.

The laughter silenced the minute Raylan entered. They all stared at her, obviously not expecting her to return. Raylan looked at them, a triumphant smirk on her face as she went back to her work station, returning silently to her stitching.

Once the quiet had settled down, the talk resumed. The girl who sat next to her, Rachel as Raylan had once softly heard her tell Madame Dacio, paused in her stitching. Rachel held the paled chestnut hair, and freckles of the stereotype of a farmer's daughter. Even her dresses were faded and wrinkled, her feet clothed in leather boots. She was silent and shy, but Rachel paused, looking at Raylan. Her brown eyes fearfully held Ray's for a moment. Her voice was barely a whisper. "What was it like?" She asked, softly "what was it like, America?" She was shy.

Raylan was slightly taken back from the question but somehow found the voice to answer, "It's...it's different from here. It's nothing like this place."

The girl's demeanor changed. "Really?' she was excited, she wanted to know more, "How?"

"Well," Raylan sat her needle down, leaning back and looking to the roof as if drifting into deep thought, "Life's a lot simpler. There you have the time to do everything you needed that day and still can make it in time to watch the sun go down, and when it goes down there- lord it seems like god himself had painted the sky over those mountains and hills. There's fields of grass and luscious forests as far as the eye can see, and rivers and lakes that are delightfully cool during the summer and sometimes freeze over during the winter so they are great to skate on. The towns are usually modest and friendly, most people would welcome anyone with open arms, especially if they are a good Christian family. And the Natives...you wouldn't believe. They are nothing like people say, not most of them at least. Few are as savage as the stories say- in fact of the ones I met, they are an amazing people. They still worship the nature that so many of us have forgotten." Her voice faded and for a few minutes she looked solemnly at the floor. She sighed then, saying softly, "I miss it sometimes."

Rachel followed her gaze, her eyes seeing everything Raylan described. She cautiously glanced around the room, no one paid attention to her-ever. She leaned in and whispered, "It is my dream to move to America."

Raylan smiled, "Where you want to go? Any idea?"

The girl shrugged, "Anywhere has got to be better than here. Here my mother and father are so poor we can not even afford to eat every day. My eldest brother died, so we have no means of income other than me. My other siblings are still to young to work," She sighed, "It is a foolish dream. I will never go to America." Rachel picked up her needle and went back to work, her head down, slightly crestfallen.

"Don't say that? America is a land where all things are possible. Think of it this way, you can either try to make it or die wondering what could have been if only you continued to try," She smiled tenderly, "Don't ever give up. All things are possible if you believe in yourself enough, work hard for it and not sit around waiting for it to happen."

The girl smiled sadly, knowing that she wouldn't but, still humored her new found friend, "I shall try"

Raylan doubted what this girl said was true but she smiled and nodded to encourage her, "Good, because it is possible. Nothing is ever impossible."

The girl nodded, with some hope. Her mind reeled over the sights Raylan had told her. She carefully kept her own mental notes, not knowing how to read or write, she would tell her younger siblings of America, and fill their minds with wonder and dreams.

((Note from the Authoress: Awww, isn't Raylan just the little trooper... bah! Don't let that innocent and courageous nature fool you! stares suspiciously at Raylan Alright...we may now continue.))

Night settled over the Opera House, the darkness's silence shortly followed. Vits wasn't dancing that night, in fact she was one of the few who were still working. The set absolutely had to get up. Raylan had also not joined the auditorium that night, but instead yearned for a different air. Being stuck in the musty Opera House had made her desire for the outside world strong and unwavering and tonight the night beckoned her. It called her up, up to freedom, away from the mess below, away from the mindless gossip, away from life. Raylan walked briskly and soundlessly, pin and ink grasped firmly in her hands. The travel up to the roof wasn't as bad as she had excepted it to be. She had expected people to be all over the place, getting in her way, offering her drinks again but surprisingly there weren't many. Her book was clutched tightly against her chest- the symbol of her secret passion held close to her heart. Minutes passed as she walked the levels, slowly making her way there. After some more silent minutes she had made it to the roof, taking hold of the iron handle and pushing open the door to the roof. Outside was chilly but she ignored the cold and headed out into the night atmosphere. Raylan let the door fall shut behind her as she made her way across the roof, over towards the stone angels that perched atop the building. A shiver ran across her neck and in effort to keep warm she pulled her hair free to fall down her back, shielding the back of her neck from the bite of the cold. At the foot of Apollo's statue she settled herself on the stone edge, sitting cross legged, then opening her book in her lap and reading over what she had written the night before. She placed the ink and pin in front of her, an arms reach away for when she needed it.

Across the roof top, the night's fog settled over the city, and the roof. The chill air misted the surrounding statues, hiding many things from sight. Beneath a winged horse, kin to the fabled Pegasus, the tiles shifted, revealing a man garbed in all black, the trap door lover had appeared through his infamous trap. The fog hid him from view, and the well oiled hinges silenced any noise. Slowly he emerged, a ghost in the distance. His masked eyes had watched her, followed her climb from the House, and its inhabitants. He understood her wish to get away, even for a moment. His eyes watched her now, hidden behind the mask, and the swirling mist, enclosing them both within their own worlds.

For several minutes her eyes rolled over the pages, rereading all her midnight thoughts. She had turned to a blank page seconds later, but before taking up her pin she stared thoughtfully at the unmarked page, clearly gathering in her head exactly what she meant to put upon it. She mulled it over for some time, and then suddenly seemed to settle on an idea, taking up the quill and dipping it gingerly into the ink. Once ready she began to write. The emotion of what she wrote could be detected by the speed of her writing. If it was sad or uneventful the scribbling was slow and messy; if it was anger, or passion, or loneliness, or any of the extreme emotions her writing was brisk and thorough. Tonight she wrote with a firing speed, completely consuming herself in the words that flowed so easily through her fingers.

He watched all this, his steps advancing upon her, from his hidden shadow in the mist. His green eyes never left the figure writing herself into loneliness. He watched as her hand danced across the page, telling some story, some note, something. But what? His mind reeled with curiosity from what was held within that red leather bound book. What stories, what past, what future lay beneath those hands, that cover, those pages? What did she say? What did she feel? What did she know? He watched her, hidden with in his shadows, his eyes intent upon her, his breath baited as his eyes held her, gently caressing her, yearning to find what lay beneath that hardened exterior. He felt this way to few others, Vits had been one, but she steadily refused to even acknowledge him, beyond the brilliance of his Don Juan plans. Christine Daae had been the other. Oh Christine...

His heart took a leap at the thought of her name, she who he had loved-deeply loved, and she who was never to return. His eyes returned to his subject, what were her dreams? What did she want? Why was she here? Would she stay? Would she be able to see him? Would she love him? No! He would not fall for that trap again! He would never love, again. His heart had been broken once, and now it could not be repaired! Silently he cursed Christine for the pain she caused him, but then he relented. The love was lost, but he still remembered it-and always would. He always would love his Angel. Again the dark orbs hidden behind the mask returned to his subject, eager to know. What was she feeling?

The words were rapid, falling like title waves onto the page- her single release. They spilled from her fingertips, pouring out the pain her soul was carrying- the remorse. It was obvious from the random slow of her writing occasionally that one word was being repeated. Every time she repeated that word she would pause, sigh, and then continue to write feverishly. Time seemed to wait in awe as she wrote, eager to see the result, but once she had finished she had peculiarly slammed the journal shut, denying the night to see her masterpiece. She replaced the quill and then leaned back against the statue, clutching her precious release protectively to her chest. Her eyes had drifted to the lights of Paris, lingering on the starry display but with only a look of pure woe. Her lips parted and a whisper escaped, uttering so softly that one word, "Arron." What had happened then that caused her guard to rise once more? What had happened to make her pull back from her emotions, to force them away, and begin to look fretfully about? Again alarm struck her, again she was beat with that feeling. Again she felt exposed, somehow knowing she was being watched.

The Opera Ghost froze as he realized that she had sensed him. His ears caught the word "Arron". He silently cursed the name, and longed to lash out. He wanted her to be his alone. No! He wasn't ready for that. But still he wanted another pupil, another prodigy... if his dear Christine was not to return to him... why not this girl? He sensed something buried deep within this one. He yearned to know what. He had to know what lay within the book, what secrets she held, what desires, what dreams. He was close to her, his eyes stared at her figure. He understood that she knew he was there. A barely audible swirl of his cloak, gave him away as he disappeared into the surrounding mist. He became visible on the other side, blocked slightly by Apollo's massive leg. He waited, watching.

Past experiences had attuned her ears, as well as all her senses. She had caught the whirl in the mist, the sound so soft she had almost missed it. Immediately she knew. She clutched firm to the book as she sat up straight, her eyes searching the dark, peering through the mist. She didn't search long though before her eyes came to settle on something that did not belong by Apollo's side. Raylan squinted as to make certain, but there was no mistaking it. It was he who watched her, the great phantom of the opera.

He offered her a sly smile; perhaps he had intended to get caught. His voice was soft as he stepped out from the god's shadow. "Mysterious night," He commented, mostly meaning the fog, but hidden darker meanings lurked behind the words.

She nodded. Her voice was strangely defensive and protective as she replied, "Indeed, it is."

He noted that, keeping tabs of her reactions. "What draws up here?" He inquired, making idle chatter that both of them knew had a deeper meaning, neither of them knew exactly what the other was up to, so both danced, an elegant dance around the blatant and out right truth. Why had the other come here?

"Seeking solitude," She said, truthfully but not in its full integrity, "Sometimes I just yearn to be alone and watch the stars."

He nodded and also looked up at the stars that could be barely seen through the fog's haze. "Not the best night for it," He then gestured over to Paris, "But the lights are fantastic in this weather." The lights shone through the low lying cloud, a haze of different colors, and meanings. The Eiffel Tower stood out in the distance, a dark shape among the light, with an odd thought back towards the Phantom, the dark man amongst the light of the Opera House.

Raylan made a quick glance over her shoulder at the city before returning her gaze to her company, not wishing to leave herself vulnerable to him in any way. "It is beautiful," She said softly, "Much more extravagant than my world."

His smile waned, "What was your world like?" He hungered for the outside world, away from here, from hiding although this was never possible. He stepped closer; they were close, almost touching. He had not been close to any other in a number of years. He realized he missed it.

She paused, confused by the warmth that began to burn up her body as he grew closer. Her blood was beginning to rush and a scarlet blush was crossing over her cheeks before she lowered her head, using her locks to shield the reaction. Her mind screamed with confusion. It had been so long since she blushed, years since she had felt this, but why on earth did it emerge when this ghost grew near? Why on earth was she blushing over a phantom- a man who confused himself with a ghost; a man she hardly knew? She cleared her voice nervously and slowly raised her head back to him, forcing the blush to die away. "My world, America, its more old-fashioned," She paused, trying to find the right words to explain her home for the second time that night, "More peaceful. It's calm, a place where time has no meaning. You live for the moment, the sorrow, the passion, the adventure...you live to the fullest because you don't have forever. There are no cities like this there, nothing of this grand stature, but we still have the same problems. Violence, rapist, prejudice, and thieves... but you find so many good people there. The natives are good people, most of them at least. I have met only one tribe that did not put peace before violence. They...they are different world in their own though...one that worshipers nature in all its glory... one that accepts the different... America though... we have better sunsets."

He followed her descriptions with slight awe. He chuckled at the last remark., "I'd like to see a sunset better than the Persian ones." He hadn't slipped, but he hadn't exactly meant to say it out loud. It was an idle thought, one of his in passing, "So, why did you leave heaven for h-" He meant to say hell, but stopped himself short. Here was far from hell. He knew Hell. He had designed it

Her eyes narrowed and again she clutched firm to her journal. "I," She stuttered a little but forced herself to reply calmly, "I... I had to..." She cut her words short, not daring to say anything more.

He pressed the moment, his hunger to know overwhelmed him. His need to control, to be the puppeteer. "You had to...?" He left it hanging before supplying, "leave?"

"Yes," Her reply was short though, a clear example that she would give no explanation as to why.

He took a turn on her, a blunt, a slight failing of his, "Obviously. But why? If across the Atlantic lies Heaven, America. Why come here?"

She sent a burning glare towards him and replied tersely, "My reasons are my own. Don't make the mistake Monsieur that I am required to share them with you or any one else."

He responded like wise, the anger rising. His stature changed. Before he had been gentle, almost a friend, now he withdrew himself to his full height, and squared his shoulders, an imposing stance, on that had stirred the fear up in many, and would do it again. His eyes hardened with the rage that burned within. "We shall see Mademoiselle," He added the title, almost as an insult, calling her like he would a child. With a swirl of his midnight cloak he vanished into the swirling mist, once again leaving her very much alone.


	10. A Deadly Mistake

**Hey everyone. I am back from my trip and with a new chapter for you all. Oooo Excitement! As always, please comment and thank you for popping in.**

**A Few Thanks**

**Mademoiselle Phantom- As always thank you...but where you been? I'm missing your wonderful comments. **

**Priestess Of Anubis- I'm glad that the story inerests you, and thank you for the compliment. It means a lot to us that you think we are doing well instead of crashing and burning.**

**WildPixieChild- Awww, thanks! Here, look, we have written more for you. Enjoy!**

**Thanks you three. You all have made my day.**

**-Olivia N.**

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Vits started her morning ritual, walking down the famous streets of Paris. She meandered towards the Sine, her final destination-as it was every morning. Without thinking about it, she passed the Cervantes Inn. She didn't pay any attention to it; its residence she believed had yet to awake and therefore could cause her no harm. Instead she kept walking, past a bakery with fresh bread for sale, the smell drifting out, filling the air with its sweet temptation.

Through one of the room windows of the Cervantes Inn however a man had been watching, eyes fixed on the horizon, awaiting the magic of the rising sun. His focused eyes had indeed caught the movement below, and in seeing the young stage manager pass he moved with a sweeping motion through the inn and out into the chilled, shaded Parisian streets. His steps were light, inaudible to those with common, untrained senses. He trailed briskly after this unusual woman, making sure not to disturb her concentrated thought until absolutely necessary.

Vits felt eyes watching her, there was a slight pause in her step as she momentarily debated what to do about it. Her fingers curled around the hilt of one of her knives she had tucked into her belt that morning, taking the advice that Raylan had given her earlier that week about protecting herself. She kept her slow, meandering pace, and made a wide circle, pretending to be looking at a flower shop. While smelling the roses her eyes swept across the street, looking for her stalker.

He was crafty though and swiftly dodged her view by gracefully bolting into an alley between two shops. He kept his body pressed to the brick of the building, awaiting the sound of Vits steps to begin following again.

Vits was thorough, she did two sweeps, and a carefully drawn out pause before continuing on. Her pace didn't increase though, however her step did. Her step held more purpose and care. She walked on the balls of her feet, ready to spring into action, and it was a bit shorter, to be ale to maneuver, if necessary.

The man followed just as he had planned, his steps going in time with Vits's. However his steps were not poised and alert as Vits's were; they became leisurely as if he was aware of the hostility he placed between Vits and himself and was entirely accepting of it.

Vits slipped both knives out of their hiding places, but kept them well concealed. She didn't want to let whoever was following her know that she was armed. She made her way to her usual spot on the Sine, but instead of merely looking at the water, she used her peripheral vision to watch the people behind her, to see who followed.

He kept his body aligned with her, making sure to stand precisely behind her. When she had stopped, he stopped, and waited, silent and still as a statue.

Vits turned her head slightly, allowing a better view behind her. Her grip on her knives tightened, as she spotted a man standing too still to be an idle on looker. He was almost too obvious.

When moments had passed the figure grew restless and taking a few steps forward he dared to utter a greeting, a warm friendly tone as he said, "Good morning Mademoiselle."

Vits swung around, a blade spinning in her hand. The blade was polished, a gleaming threat with a few nicks from use. Vits almost launched an attack, but stopped herself just in time. "You're the one who followed me," Her voice started with the anger she had from expecting an attack, but that calmed down.

There was a look of absolute shock flowing over Ethan's face and although the blade had not struck him, he found it hard to recover his voice. Several times he stuttered a yes, although it usually came out sounding more like a word mixed with a moan and a whimper.

Vits looked at him, with a slight look of confusion. She then glanced at the blade, spun it in her hand and slipped it back into it's hiding place, the other shortly following. She muttered something sounding like "sissy" under her breath.

Despite his shock he growled at her assumption of him and cynically remarked, "I am no coward miss, just startled that's all."

Vits raised an eyebrow. "I pull a knife, and you lose your guts?" Her tone blatantly told him, that in her eyes, he was definitely a full blooded sissy.

Ethan glared but refused to continue the subject further. Instead he tried a lighter form of conversation, "Out here again I see. Do you always visit the Sine so early in the mornin'?"

Vits turned back to the water, with a fond gaze, "Yes."

Ethan nodded and moved to stand by her side. He waited for some time in silence, taking in the moist air with long drawn out breaths and only when comfortable did he speak. "You look at the water as if it was an old friend," He said warmly, "It bring you comfort, doesn't it. It used to do the same for me."

Vits looked at him with a far off look in her eyes, she was remembering something with a gentle smile. "It is"

Ethan sighed, a sound of woe but he continued on cheerfully, "Did you spend much time on it or somethin'?"

Vits chuckled, "I grew up on it"

"You did?" He smiled and looked her over curiously, "You a sailor or somethin'?"

She nodded, "My father was. I spent my first ten years on a ship."

He smiled and gave a small, longing sigh, "The best years of your life right? So why'd you come here? Why leave the sea?"

Vits looked down at the water, double checking the locks on her emotional doors. She looked back at him, straight in the eyes. She couldn't hide the pain of her past from them. However she kept a perfectly straight face. "Two days ago was the tenth anniversary of my father's death," She managed to keep most of the pain from her voice, which gave it an odd, forced quality of someone trying to hide what they were truly feeling.

"Oh," His voice was comforting and kind, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you lost someone so... dear to you."

Vits shrugged, closing the mental doors. "It happens. I take a great deal of satisfaction in the fact that the man who did it had a nice slow trip to the bottom of the ocean after his crew mutinied," Her tone was blunt. She had locked the doors, the wouldn't come open any time soon, "The hard part is making a living after being orphaned at eight."

He nodded, "I can't imagine...it must have been awful."

"It's life," She glanced back down to the water then to the sky. She rarely kept her gaze on one spot, but that didn't mean she wasn't listening. Vits shifted, more out of habit than nervousness. She turned around, leaning her back against the rail, letting the breeze ruffle around her. She was actually relaxing. Flawlessly Vits changed the subject, obviously having experience in this area, "So what 'bout you? You said that you grew up on the Mississippi, right? Obviously you aren't a Parisian. What's your past?"

He grinned and also leaned against the railing, "I said I've seen the Mississippi, and that much is true, but I ain't never lived there. Raylan and I hail from a small town in North Georgia, and I just traveled a lot after I got of age to live on my own."

Vits nodded, "Must've been hard sticking to one place. I've been here way too long myself. Getting ready to move on."

"Oh?" He looked at her curiously, "Where to?"

"Back home. She keeps calling," Vits vaguely gestured to the water behind them.

He smiled and nodded, but his mood had quickly changed to disappointment as he spoke, "I wish I could go with you, but I'm due to move further inland. You're pleasant to be around though- when you go, I'm going to miss these mornin' talks."

Vits looked at him, with a raised eyebrow, "In the last one, I was a total bitch...and you'll miss it?"

He chuckled, "Yes, I will. Strange as it is, I enjoy spendin' time with you. You ain't like other woman, and that's refreshing."

"No, I'm not, and you're of the few who don't want me to change,"

He smiled again, one of those heart throbbing grins he so often flashed, "I hope you never do, I kind of like this Vits." He laughed a little and then pushed himself away from the railing, stretching a bit before tucking his hands in his pockets. "Well, I gotta get goin' and I'm sure you got work to do. Listen, maybe I'll drop by some time and see you. I should check up on Raylan anyhow," He grinned and offered her his hand for a handshake, "It was real nice talkin' to you."

Vits nodded, "Sets to build, and Shakespeare to butcher. Drop in if you want...do keep an eye on Ray, I won't be able too." She shook his hand, with her usual hand crushing grip. She wasn't trying to show-off, it's just how her grip was. Her hands were extremely hard and calloused from years of climbing ropes on the decks of ships.

He smiled and massaged his hand when she released it, grinning although it ached from her grip. "I'll bee seein' you soon," He smiled, and with a sweeping bow he departed, walking back the way he had come, whistling a merry song to himself.

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Raylan had finished her project early, Madame Dacio allowing her leave after she had cleaned her work station and endured a few more verbal beatings from the others who still believed her to be the Phantom's new subject. She had grown used to this abuse though, instead of fretting she would now role her eyes and curse at them. After two weeks she had finally grown a back bone and dared to challenge these people. She was still relieved though when she was finally allowed to escape the abuse, releasing the pent up sighs as she traveled down the hallways, headed for the apartment she shared with Vits.

Raylan stumbled in with a yawn. At first she had not seen Vits who had returned to the apartment to fetch her plans, which were sprawled all over the pathetic worn down table. She screeched at the top of her lungs when she finally caught sight of her, releasing an ear shattering scream. Vits spun around, jerked out of thought and released her own high pitched squeal that neither of them could have guessed her low range could reach. When they finally realized who the other was they both froze, crimson blushes crossing their cheeks in embarrassment. "Vits, dear god you scared me," She said, laughing to try and ease the tension of the moment.

"Ray," Vits responded softly, "What are you doing here?"

Both stared at one another for a short time, almost unsure how to act before Raylan broke the silence, "Uh...I got out early...finished Carlotta's dress for Act Three. Madame Dacio let me go. No new projects yet for me to take."

Vits nodded and forced herself to ease back into her normal actions, "Not bad, not bad. I bet everyone else is jealous."

She grinned, "Probably...so...why aren't you at work? I missed you this morning."

"I am...I just forgot to pick up my plans," She shrugged, "Your brother decided to accompany me on my morning walk. That put me a little late."

Strangely at the mention of her brother Raylan's gaze jolted suspiciously at Vits, and her voice was somewhat cold as she questioned, "Really? And what did he have to say?"

Vits was confused by her sudden change. She almost backed up, but stopped herself. She kept her tone neutral, "Not much, mostly hi, how are? Good to see you...usual stuff you say to people you don't really know that well." She paused, making sure she got everything, "Oh yeah, he said he'd drop by sometime, but I don't think he said when."

"Did he say why he was going to drop by? Any particular reason?" Her tone was still peculiar, a firm, demanding question.

Vits thought again. She finally shook her head, "No, he just said that he should check in on you."

Raylan released a relieved sigh, the type like a gigantic weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Her tone had returned to friendly and calm as she said, "Thank you. That is good... I'll be looking forward to seeing him."

Vits nodded seeing her friend relax, "He seemed pretty happy about it." She gathered up her plans, rolling them quickly and efficiently with practiced movements, and only paused to say, "I have work to do, if you're bored, I can always use another man."

Raylan laughed, "Me and wood working don't mix. Besides, I think I'd like to take this time off to catch up on a little writing." Her eyes for a second glanced over to her two suitcases and the one that held her journal, then returned to Vits with a small grin, "Thanks for the offer though."

Vits nodded, "I couldn't pay you for your work anyway. Have fun." She walked off then, without a goodbye as usual and muttering her to-do list to herself.

Raylan shut the door after her, sighing again before walking calmly over to her sofa bed. She slumped down upon it, shifting until comfortable and then reached for her larger suitcase. Once again her eyes avoided contact with the smaller of the two suitcases, even avoided touching it as she reached for the other. She brought the larger one into her lap and opened it, pulling out the red journal placed carefully on top her neatly folded clothes and then closed the luggage, replacing it on the floor.

She had spent nearly an hour sitting there, staring blankly at the journal placed open in her lap, her quill held limply and inactive in her hand. At this moment she was finding little to write about, nothing of particular interest to occupy the precious pages of her life. Slightly agitated with this sudden writers block she began to flip through the pages of the last week, indulging in her memories in hopes of inspiration. She did stumble across one page she had written when she had first discovered the mystery of the Opera Ghost. It was a small investigation, a list of supposed sightings and places he was usually seen. The list was made of two columns, one for the places he was said to be seen and the other for saying whether or not she had experienced the truth in this. One check was marked in the second column beside the word Box Five.

Instantly she thought back on the first night she had watched Vits dance and her meeting with the supposed Phantom following it. She could still remember seeing that harsh half mask staring at her through the dark, the lights illuminating it in such a way that it seemed to float there without a body to be attached to. She had to remind herself that this was not so though and that she had confirmed that the mask had been attached to a man when she had met him upon the roof of the Opera Populaire. Raylan smiled at the thought; it had almost been a friendly moment. Scanning once more she began to realize that questions of this Phantom had occupied a good portion of her pages since she had entered the Opera house- questions of which were nearly all unanswered.

This was irritating to her; she did not like knowing nothing of those around her- especially one that was entirely capable of watching her and discovering her secrets. If he was to learn hers, she almost felt compelled to learn his. Slapping her journal closed, she seemed to have made up her mind, tucking the journal under her arm and rising from her sofa. After checking that her two suitcases were indeed secure she strode across the room and out into the hall, closing the door to the apartment firmly behind her.

Raylan's walk was brisk but silent. She avoided each person's glance, dodging any contact with anyone who might try to misdirect her from her target. Few took notice of her, most too busy preparing for the upcoming show that was to mutilate Shakespeare's art. Although she was indeed eager and in some what of a rush, she had come to a halt when passing the prima donnas room, stopping only to look at the several flower arrangement placed about the singers quarters. Her eyes shifted left and right, making sure that the area was clear of onlookers, and then her hand flew to one of the arrangements, snatching up a single red rose into her grip and then continuing on her journey. If the myths were indeed true than she would find use of the delicate flower.

At her pace it had taken a short time to enter the amphitheater and although the stage was covered in practicing ballerinas, Raylan slipped nearly unseen through the shadows of the aisles and in no time entered the ghosts box. It was quiet there, an almost eerie silence about the completely empty grand tier box. Her eyes scanned thoroughly over the area, the red velvet carpet and hangings, its ledge out over the lower aisles and its respectable arm chairs. She noted that it was quite ordinary, with nothing of any abnormal air about it. With a slight sigh of disappointment she began her walk towards the chair stories said was supposed to be his, an ordinary seat as the others. After careful examination and determining that there was no magic about it, she gently placed the delicate rose upon the velvet cushion of his chair, running a finger over its smooth petals before lifting her hand away and scanning once again over the box.

How did he do it? If the stories were true, this was indeed his box, but no one had ever seen him in it, although some had heard him...but she... she had seen him. She had seen his mask standing there in the dark... or was it another of his illusions? She had to admit that this man was indeed a master at his tricks, but like all onlookers she was curious as to what this magicians secrets were. How could he vanish at will? How could he hide his form but project his voice? She wanted to know, and if things went wrong, she reminded herself gravely, if things went wrong she _needed_ to know. She paced the box several times, searching for his secrets but with no avail. When she had finally convinced herself that she could do nothing more she headed for the exit, giving one last glance to the rose she left behind before slipping out of his box. Once again she entered the auditorium, this time pausing momentarily to watch the young ballerinas practice upon the stage. Hardly any of them held the grace that Vits did when she danced, and none stirred the emotions that her heart withheld. With a longing sigh she continued her walk, mulling over in her head the next place she would go to attempt to understand this Opera Ghost.

She had directed herself to the stage, being careful to not get in the dancers way as they pranced about. Working her way in to a dark corner she leaned against the wall, opening her journal to stare at her unfinished list of places the Phantom was said to be sighted.

Madame Giry watched them all with a well practiced eye. She gave a few brisk instructions, occasionally showing a move or a sequence of moves herself. She was graceful, almost as graceful as Vits. After a few minutes she seemed satisfied and told them to take a break. Her eyes glanced over Raylan with a slightly amused look. The girls, as usual, gathered in a group and began their brainless chatter, and of course, the talk turned to the Phantom, most of the older girls stayed out of it-they knew better by now than to believe in Ghosts. However the adolescents and the younger girls seemed truly interested. Boastful stories were passed about how so and so had seen him, talked to him, touched him etc. A few mentioned Christine Daae's dressing room and a 'ghost' that haunts it regularly, occasionally wailing, or singing softly in the middle of the night.

Her ears had followed their chatter only slightly, but with the mention of this Christine's room that he was to supposedly haunt, she found herself suddenly enthralled in their conversation. She had barely sensed herself moving towards them, too intent on listening, and it was not until they all went silent and stared questioningly at her that she realized she had pushed herself in to their gossip circle. "...uh," Raylan's voice caught in her throat and once again she blushed with embarrassment, "Uh... good day ladies."

The girls looked her over critically, she was an outsider to their group, and new to the Opera House in general. One of the older adolescents, still obsessed with the mysterious Phantom gave her a look saying "what" while she said, "Yes?"

"Um..." Raylan paused, trying to collect her thoughts and words, "You... you were all talking about Miss Daae's old room. I was wondering, does... does the Opera Ghost really haunt that room? Has anyone ever seen him in it? How...how does he get in there without anyone knowing?"

The group collectively looked at her like she was stupid. Another of the adolescents told her in the same tone of voice as the look, "He's a ghost. He's capable of all sorts of things."

"Oh...right...because that's the only logical answer," Her tone was just as theirs, labeling them as foolish through her voice.

One of the younger ones piped up. "He's the Phantom of the Opera. Of course he can enter rooms and his private box any way he wants. He can fly."

Raylan raised her eyebrows at the younger one, her cheeks bulging up as she tried to withhold laughter. "Fly?" She said after she swallowed down the snickering, "Tell me, has anyone ever considered that maybe this is just a man who is trying- no succeeding- at frightening you all?"

The look of haughtiness returned to their faces, "You're new, so obviously you don't know about what happened."

She gave them a cocky grin, "I think I've heard every story you all have to share, several times over and each in a different form. I have no doubt that there is a Phantom but whether or not he is actually a ghost I have yet to believe."

They all sighed, like an adult trying to convince a small child of something beyond its grasp, "You didn't see him. He certainly isn't human, anymore."

"Anymore?" The last bit confused her and she looked at each of them question written on her face.

"To be a ghost he had to be a man sometime," One said matter-of-factly.

Raylan relaxed and allowed a true smile spread across her face. "Touche," She said, allowing them to think they had won although she still refused to believe he was anything but a man. She continued on then in an act, pretending to agree although she thought it remained obvious that she did not, "Well ladies, you have _convinced_ me- he's got to be a ghost. It's the only logical answer. Now...if someone can direct me to Christine Daae's old room, I'd still like to experience this phenomenon for myself."

They gave her quick simple directions as Madame Giry ushered them back to practice. The room wasn't all that hard to find anyway, nor was it very far.

Raylan's travel to the old singers room was indeed short, just as the ballerinas had told her. Standing outside the girls room though, staring at her name engraved in to the fine wood of the door, she felt her bold curiosity beginning to wane with doubt. Certainly he would be angered if he found her there, in his beloved's old room, going through her things and the possessions he cherished the most. She could not begin to imagine what such an action would cause someone so mentally unstable to do. An icy shiver ran down her spine as she reached for the doorknob, her fingertips hovering with hesitation over the chilled metal. Was it worth it? Was discovering this magicians tricks truly worth putting herself in danger, again? _Yes_, she could practically hear Ethan's voice in her head, _Anything is worth it if it offers survival_. She nodded in agreement to the words he had so often repeated to her, reminding her of her problem and responsibilities. If the worst were to happen she could fix so many things if she only knew the ghost's tricks. Coming to a decision her hand finally rested upon the doorknob and after several deep breaths she finally willed herself to open the door.

The moist and musty air of an abandoned room graced her nostrils as she pushed herself in to the dark atmosphere of Christine Daae's dressing room. Raylan left the door open behind her, using the light from the hallway to see about the singers quarters. The first thing she had caught sight of was the wall height mirror at the opposite end of the room, the same enormous piece that seemed to be placed in every room she had seen in the Opera house. She stared at her reflection for a moment, imagining what it must have been like for dear Christine when she had heard that looming voice singing to her here. He must have terrified the poor girl, Raylan had so arrogantly assumed before moving on to the rest of the room. It was set up just as any other dressing room with its simple dresser, side room, small table and chairs. There was an elegant lamp that once probably radiated this room with golden light, but now it sat in its sorrow, abandoned to collect its dust along with the rest of the room. No one had dared to use this room after Daae's unusual disappearance, all too afraid that the ghost would come and sweep them away into his underworld from which no one returned. Raylan scoffed at the silly superstition as she walked about the late singers room, her eyes tracing over every inch of the quarters that she could find. Her fingers ran through the dust that had collected on the dresser, slightly revealing the glorious maple that shinned beneath. She performed the same action upon almost everything within the room, caressing each piece of furniture with the tips of her fingers, comforting the lonely instruments that had been left to the solitude of darkness. Slowly she paced around the room and it was only until she had touched everything that she came to settle before the mirror.

She stood mere inches away from it, staring deeply into the eyes of her own reflection. Her lips thinned as if biting something back, and her eyebrows creased to hint frustration. Silence had grown thick; it froze as if awaiting to see what actions she would take, eagerly watching her. Raylan showed no sign of discomfort though, in fact she made no movement except to continue staring herself down. People say that eyes are the windows into a persons soul and if this is true than Raylan's true self was indeed broken for the longer she searched her image the more her eyes began to swell with tears. She did not blink them away, did not dare to leave the gaze of her image. Her hands were the only thing that moved then, one that clutched harder to her red book and the other of which she slowly rose to the image of her face, covering her reflection with the palm of her hand. Her eyes remained staring as that hand lifted slowly to curl into a fist, her nails digging in the soft flesh of her palm. She continued to stare, blankly staring, ignoring the pain. What did it matter this pain? Physical pain could never compare to the ache inside. "It will never compare," She repeated in muttered words, fiercely staring at her fist, "It can never compare."

Suddenly her fist flew back, and just a quickly returned, slamming full force against the reflection of her face. Tears fell in waves; in the moment her wall had broken and years of misery came flooding down her cheeks as she continued to mercilessly pound the mirror. She would hiss between hits, "I hate you," each time staring into her eyes, into her damned soul. Each time she would hit a little harder, a little faster, paying no heed to the blood that began to seep down the side of her hand. It did not matter to her, this pain was but a scratch on the surface of agony. No, the real agony was in those eyes, in that soul that taunted her through them, in every memory. The agony held her to those eyes and she had not even heard herself when she screamed at her image, screamed with the complete rage that this action could not begin to describe, "I hate you!" It was then that she ceased her blows, her fist coming to rest on the now blood stained mirror. She could no longer see her image through the thick crimson she had spread across the glass, could no longer stare into those eyes that she so loathed. Her eyes grew dry, ending the tears that she so rarely let fall, but she still remained there, staring to where her image should have been.

Madame Giry heard the screaming, from down the hall, and something hitting glass. She feared to know from what room the sounds came out of. Her fears were correct. On silent feet she rushed into the forbidden room. _Her_ room. She walked in upon the new girl, staring at her reflection in his mirror with tears running down her face, her fist smeared in blood, as well as the mirror. The mirror was broken, not all the way through, but it was definitely no longer whole. The Ballet Mistress rushed into the room, taking the girl's injured hand. She paused looking wildly around the room before whispering in a rough French accent, "Come. You are no longer safe here" Without another word, she dragged Raylan from the room, down through the labyrinth of the Opera House to her room. Madame Giry's room was larger than Vits, much larger, and carefully decorated in the old style. She turned on the gas lamps providing adequate light after which she promptly ushered Raylan into a chair, which held a straight back with minimal padding over it. Her room, like herself was meant for use and function, not frivolities or excessive waste. Madame Giry forced Raylan to open her hand, and wordlessly began to clean the various wounds, carefully removing the glass shards.

Raylan carefully placed her journal in her lap, freeing her clean hand to wipe away the tears that still remained on her cheeks. Her voice was somewhat choked as she said, "I'm sorry...I'm sorry... I didn't mean to loose control like that... I didn't mean to."

Madame Giry paused, and looked up at her, "It's alright. You won't be the first. I closed the door so nobody should find it for a while. However, he won't be pleased."

"The Phantom you mean?" Her eyes clenched shut as if it just dawned on her what she had done, "Oh lord, this is not good."

Madame Giry nodded. Most of the girls cuts weren't big enough, or deep enough to sew, so she merely wrapped Raylan's hand tightly in bandages. Her voice was filled with concern when she said, "No it's not. Whatever possessed you to go into Daae's room?"

Raylan gave Madame Giry a guilty grin and said while she nibbled nervously on her lip, "Curiosity."

Giry nodded and finished tying off the bandages. She then sat back in her chair and sighed, "What do you want to know?"

Raylan looked shocked, taken back that this woman would even offer to answer her questions. She first uttered a thank you for Madame Giry cleaning her hand and then gathered her thoughts. "I want," She mulled it over for a second, "I want to know how he does it. How he keeps hidden, unseen and never caught. Its foolish, but I want to know his ways... I want to be able to disappear."

Madame Giry watched her, with knowing eyes, "Only the Phantom can answer that. I know that he lives below, deep in the bowels of the Opera. How he disappears, I can not answer."

She nodded and muttered with soft disappointment, "I know... I didn't think you could... and he will never tell me will he? It's his little secret. He is allowed to know everyone's secrets, but no one may know his." The last statement was bitter and cold.

"He has more secrets than you know child. And he has every right to hide as you do, maybe more," Her tone was gentle.

She nodded solemnly, "I have no doubt of it... and you wont tell me why he hides, will you? I suppose that too I will have to discover from him, although I can not see why he would wish to talk to me now after what I did." Raylan glanced viciously at her hands, "After ruining something important to him. He would probably rather kill me than talk to me... I almost wish he would..."

Madame Giry looked firmly into her eyes. Her tone was of steel, "Death solves very little."

"Believe me Madame," Raylan said with a malicious tone of amusement, "For me, life can solve no more than death."

"So you wish to take the easy way out?" Her tone was cold, and harsh.

Raylan laughed harshly, "I would if I could, but I have a slight problem with hurting myself... except for today... today was the first time in years I've been able to inflict damage upon myself."

She nodded, "The body cannot stand to impose pain on itself. It will refuse to hurt itself. Instinct."

"Figures," Raylan laughed and then she spoke gently as she asked, "What do you think he'll do when he finds out? What would he do?"

She shrugged, "I do not know. From what I have seen, he seems to like you, so I doubt you will find a lasso around your neck. But with him, you never know."

"Well... I deserve what ever he gives me... so many times I should have been punished for my actions, but I was never found," She was almost speaking to herself then, talking of things she knew Madame Giry did not understand.

Madame watched, silently mulling over thoughts in her head. She spoke softly, "He will give you what he feels you deserve."

Oddly, Raylan simply smiled at the thought, saying softly, "Good."

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**Next Update coming soon! Please review! Thanks everyone.**

**-Olivia N.**


	11. Almost Bonding

**Hey all! Wow, got lots of good comments since the last section. Thanks everyone! Alright, well this section is a little bit shorter than we hoped for but don't worry, there is definitely more coming. As always, please review. Thank you.**

**A Few Thanks**

**shimmeringtears- You rock my socks off! That was extremely nice- like Sum and I were beaming after we read your reviews. I'm thrilled that you are enjoying it, and that you think Raylan is kinky. Ha, I don't really think she is right now but she most definitely will be later- and that's all you get cause if I say anymore I'll ruin the surprise. Really enjoyed your reviews.**

**CC- Ok, first just because seeing the initials reminded me of a band, out of pure curiosity does that stand for Coheed and Cambria? Probably not, and I probably just made a fool of myself, but just out of curiosity I thought I'd ask. LOL, onto the actual purpose of this, thanks so much for the comment- you also made my day. About the America thing, we aren't bad we just aren't how Raylan described it anymore, but with that I was sort of going off the whole New World, American Dream kind of thing. Now Ethan... I'm glad you think he sounds hot because I intended him to be... hehe attractive indeed, but he's Summy's (co-author) type. I like the darker, brooding and mysterious types... I just write Southern boys well. As for Raylan... well you're going to have to wait to find out :). Awesome comment by the way.**

**swm- Hmmm, what can I say about you besides 'wow, this person is a really good reviewer'? Thanks so much, I mean truly, especially for being honest and pointing out what you thought needed fixing. I tried my best to shorten the paragraphs in this portion- I hope it helps. As for more Erik, oh trust me, there is A LOT of him coming. Little things are going to happen that requires more of his participation. There will be no lacking of Erik because I and millions of other phans love him, not because the story needs him which is a given, but because he is loved beyond compare and I will get jumped if he is not present. So yea, look forward to many more of your helpful reviews.**

**Thank you everyone who has read and reviewed, and now without anymore delays, here is the story.**

**-Olivia N.**

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He slipped into his private box as he always did, in his own mysterious manner. The House had quieted down for the night, the stage remaining lit by those who still believed that illumination warded off the ghosts of the night. That meek light though would not keep the Phantom from his performance, his nimble Vitusia.

The Phantom slowly walked around his box, his green eyes scanning suspiciously over the small area. Something was different; he could sense it in the very air of the room- someone had been here. Again he examined all, looking for a trap, the change, the intrusion. At last he found it, there, sitting on the farthest seat to the right of the front row, his usual seat. Sitting upon the red velvet cushion, filling the room with its delicious fragrant was a vibrant red rose. A smile graced his lips; his gloved hand snatching out and bringing the gift to nostrils as he inhaled its intoxicating perfume. He knew who it was from, although he had to admit he was surprised by the gift. The question 'why' crossed his mind.

Almost instantly the smile turned to a frown. There was a second motive, a reason why she had given this to him, but what? A growl of frustration escaped him as he took his place in his normal seat. So many questions this girl filled his mind with, so many wonders. He yearned to know what lay beneath her, to solve this elaborate game she played. Why had she left him a gift, this gift? He was suddenly restless; the urge to answer his questions longing to be resolved. He had to know; no one residing in _his_ Opera had the right to deceive him.

Growing ever impatient and agitated, the Opera Ghost waited for his nightly performance, his monitoring of the dancing protégé. He longed to feel the emotions that she brought out, her graceful body majestically soaring. His eyes glanced around the stage, growing irritated, counting the minutes that passed. Vitusia was always so good at being on time; what was keeping her now? A good time had passed when he had come to the conclusion that she wasn't showing up tonight. The Phantom growled softly as he vanished out of his secret entrance.

In his restless annoyance, the man-like apparition sought out some peace- the only peace he had ever known. He wisped through the dark passages, former melodies playing softly in his head while old memories directed him to his one place of worship; the one place he could visit to remember the harmony he had once felt, before _she_ had left him. "Oh, Christine... why did you leave me?" His lips whispered as he stealthily floated through the dark passageways. No matter; he could bathe in what still remained of his love, in what she left behind in her dressing room. He had only to turn the corner and...

A howl of great despair and rage rang through the Opera House, and all of its inhabitants shuddered in response. He had found the sanctity of her room annihilated. The mirror through which he had taught his love destroyed beyond repair. Someone had desecrated it; their fist had pounded against the precious glass, nearly shattering it all the way through. The horror of such an offense deserved worse than death, and in his rage he decided such a punishment they would get.

The Phantom looked down at the red rose he still held, the gift from Raylan. It slowly dawned upon him what the rose meant. However, white meant forgiveness, not red. The flower crumpled under his crushing grip, and fell to the floor, discarded as a pathetic excuse to cower from the wrath of the Opera Ghost. Rage surged through his veins as he planned out the girl's slow and painful death. He would enjoy her screams of agony, her begging for mercy, her blood running down his hands as he carried out her sentence for the crime she had committed. Make no mistake, the Phantom Of The Opera would have his revenge.

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Raylan had not gone to work the next day, on the excuse that her hand was too injured to work a needle and thread at the present time. This was partially true. She indeed had hurt her hand enough to where it was _painful_ to handle a needle, but truthfully there had not been enough damage done to make it impossible. Madame Giry had insisted she remained dormant though, arguing with Madame Dacio for nearly an hour before she had agitatedly allowed Raylan leave.

Raylan had spent her entire day locked inside the apartment she shared with Vits, curled up on her sofa either sleeping or staring accusingly at her smaller suitcase and journal. She still remained troubled by the previous nights events, and it was all too obvious by her constant muttering and nibbling on her thumb nail.

Vits walked in, taking her lunch break in the apartment as she usually did, and stopped when she saw Raylan lying there. Normally she came back here to work, while her men cleared out. She held her rolled plans in one hand and a pencil in the other. Her tone was cheerfully conversational when she asked, "Raylan, what are you doing here?"

Raylan lifted her hand as explanation, pulling her eyes from her suitcases to Vits for the first time in hours.

Vits sat on the edge of the table looking concerned, "Yes, I know about the hand, but you look awful. Ray, what's wrong?"

Raylan spoke in a hushed tone as if it were a secret, "I've made a terrible mistake."

Vits shrugged, "Who hasn't?"

"I broke _her_ mirror," She hissed, the anger and fear of what was to happen thick within her voice.

"Her?" Vits looked confused.

"Christine Daae's mirror," She sighed, "The mirror in her room."

Vits looked surprised. "He'll be pissed," She admitted, "But why are you all edgy? Sure, he'll be mad, but I doubt he'll kill you."

"Well you wanted to know what was wrong," She pulled her hand back to her chest, cradling it gently.

Vits watched the hand, "That's nice wrapping-who did it?"

"Madame Giry,"

Vits nodded "She's good. Well, I won't abandon you, unless you're dying to be alone"

Raylan sat up then, possibly an act of desperation not to be left alone again, leaning her back on the arm rest as she grinned, "I wouldn't mind a little company."

"That's good, because I have to wait for the lumber yard to cut my order, so I won't have it until tomorrow," Vits groaned.

"Ah, so you're here all night," She sighed with relief, "Well... at least that can guarantee the ghost wont get me tonight."

"Are you worried about a fable?" Vits asked trying to hide her laughter.

"No," She said softly, "I'm disturbed by the truth."

"Do you honestly believe that he is a ghost?"

"No," Raylan spat as if offended, "It's because I know he is just a man that I am even slightly worried... he is a bone and flesh and therefore capable of harm."

"And capable of being harmed," Vits wisely reminded her roommate-something she had had to tell herself quite often in her past.

Raylan smirked, "Yes... but the trick is catching him before he does you, and I have heard such a feet is rather difficult."

Vits shrugged, "You could wait until he does something. There's a reason I'm always armed, and it's not because of the ruffians that wander the streets of Paris."

"I have no wish to use guns," She said strongly, "And I'm not very fond of knives... so what would you suggest?"

Vits nodded "Guns are too noisy. And knives are only good if you're well versed in their use." Vits idly pulled one out from its hiding place, all Ray could tell was that it was on her side somewhere. Vits began twirling it, not threateningly, but as an old way to ward off boredom. Now it was merely something for her hands to do while she thought, "How are you at hand-to-hand?"

"I've learned enough to defend myself...usually. My father taught me how to throw a mean punch when I was younger so I could stand on my own two feet when playing with my brothers," She chuckled fondly, "Least to say growing up with four brothers who are all older than you, you learn to protect yourself rather quickly."

Vits nodded, "Try twelve instead of four."

"Twelve brothers?" Raylan gawked, "Blood brothers? Lord, your mother must be a rabbit."

Vits shook her head, "No, I grew up on a ship of twelve other men-not including my father-and they got pretty rough when they were drunk. I'm an only child, to my knowledge."

"Hm, there's a story in there I take it," Raylan said, smiling curiously.

"Not really, My father was a sailor," Vits basically dodged the truth without making it look obvious.

Raylan continued to question softly, "And your mother?"

Vits truthfully answered, "My father told me she was dead when I was four."

"Is she?" The question was brash and blunt although her voice still held the tone that hinted that Vits wasn't required to answer.

Vits paused thinking, it was a question she had asked herself when she was younger, after she had found out the truth. "Yes," Her tone was cold and uncaring, preventing her from feeling the pain. Vits didn't meet Raylan's eyes. She didn't even try.

Raylan made a mental note of Vits voice when she answered but did not pry further.

After several minutes of uncomfortable silence Vits finally turned the table, "So what 'bout you? Ethan said you lived in North Georgia-what is it like?"

She shrugged, "I can't remember much of what it looked like- my momma and I left it when I was thirteen... but I remember we had a some good land, grew cotton and such... and we had a horse named Whisper, I remember her." Raylan smiled fondly, "My brothers were always jealous cause I could ride better than any of them... I've always been a good rider."

"I've never ridden a horse before, so I wouldn't know," Vits said with a shrug.

Raylan laughed, "Well I suppose on the sea a horse wouldn't come in handy, now would it?"

Vits chuckled, "No, they tend to get in the way."

"I could imagine," She giggled for some time before releasing another sigh, a comfortable sigh. Raylan was relaxing, taking her mind off the present danger as her thumb finally went free of her teeth and rested in her lap.

Vits also enjoyed the break. However for her it was about to end. The Patron opened the door to Vits's apartment. She growled threateningly, and drew both daggers from their hiding places faster than lighting. The Patron had a broad smile, the type that hinted deeper meaning and made Vits nervous.

"Ah, Chalondra," The Patron said cheerfully, Vits's growling with the use of her first name, "I have some excellent news that you would like to hear."

Vits almost interrupted with a smart ass comment, but he kept going.

"I have found out how to keep Carlotta from leaving!" He was almost giddy with glee.

Vits was certain that she didn't want to know the answer-and she was right.

"I have invited Malorea Chalondra to come and stay with us, and even more, perform in our production of Romeo and Juliet!" He finally exclaimed with such enthusiasm it made her want to launch out and end her misery right then and there, but instead Vits groaned loudly. This was not happening. This had to be some horrible dream.

Raylan in her immaturity of the situation inquired curiously, "Who is Malorea Chalondra?"

The Patron looked at her like she was stupid. He started to say something but Vits cut him off.

"The greatest Opera Singer in Europe, and one of the best dancers in the world," Vits sent a glare at the Patron threatening to carve out his heart should he say anything else.

The Patron paled visibly and spoke extremely fast, "Well, I have to go tell the others, they shall be very excited! Good day." He nearly ran out the door.

"Lord he is such a coward," Raylan laughed, referring to the patron. She then very smoothly commented, "So Malorea Chalondra huh? Never heard of her...but... that's odd. Vits, isn't your first name Chalondra?"

"Yes," Vits growled crossly.

Raylan eyed her for a moment, catching her tone, "What a coincidence."

"Not really,"

"Why? Common name?"

"No,"

Her eyes narrowed, "So why isn't it a coincidence?"

"My father gave me the name so I would know my heritage. My mother is dead, she never existed. Unfortunately the women who bore me still lives,"

"So she's your...barer?" Raylan's mouth had fallen half open in surprise and her cheeks had gone a dark scarlet when she spoke this. How could she have been so blind as to miss the connection?

Vits's pent up pain, the hurt that she had buried beneath her calloused exterior lunged out. She had wanted a mother, someone to love her after her father had died-none came. Her voice became nearly shrill, the pain evident in her body and her voice, "How do you explain to a four year old: mommy doesn't want you? Mommy doesn't love you, and she never will! My father told me she was dead to spare a child the pain of being unloved!"

Raylan's eyes widened in shock, and her voice caught in her throat. She was holding her breath out of pure surprise and although she offered her arms out to Vits for comfort, she doubted her cold roommate would take it.

As expected, Vits shook her head, and took a deep swallow, pushing back the tears and the past. She carefully shut the doors in her mind, and locked them, securely once again. "Unfortunately she brings that side out of me every now and then," Her voice had returned to its normal deepness, and she had regained her composure.

Raylan however let her arms fall to her side, heavy with rejection. "I understand," Was all she could offer as she leaned back into the sofa, cursing herself internally for being so foolish as to let her affections show. _You can not get attached_, she reminded herself harshly, biting her lip to emphasize the importance of her thought. Even after Vits had been open to her, and even if Raylan had willingly allowed herself to let her guard down, getting attached was not an option. _Don't get attached_, she demanded herself harshly, _You know better than to trust, again_.

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**Hope you enjoyed it, although it was shorter than most. Please review! Thanks all!**

**-Olivia N.**


	12. Nightmares And Lies

**Hey everyone! New chapter up! Yay! Let's throw a party...ok, maybe later. Anyways, sorry it took a while. Lots of stuff going. I start marching band camp tomorrow- odd to be extremely tiring so I'm going to be looking forward to all your lovely reviews to come home to. Alright. Once again, thanks everyone. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer (finally)- I own nothing from Phantom Of The Opera. I own nothing but the three characters: Raylan, Vits, and Ethan. I do not own Erik... darnit.**

**A Few Thanks**

**Forever secretive- Awesome, you get a high five just for taking the time to review and liking it. Thanks so much!**

**shimmeringtears- Wow. You are the best! I love your reviews, and I am overly thrilled that you enjoy this story. Will keep churning out these chapters for you...because you're awesome. Thanks for all the great reviews!**

**Juilette Delphe- ... you are strange...**

**As always, please _REVIEW_. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and who enjoys this story. We will do our best to keep this story up to expectations. Thanks everyone!**

**-Olivia N.**

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Vits crept out of the Opera House unnoticed that night. It was well after dark so escape was easy. She didn't head to the Sine, as was her usual destination, instead she traveled down a different path. She slipped through the darkness, disappearing into seedy neighborhoods. It was the lower class parts of Paris, a place where no one of higher social standing would be caught dead. After growing up on a ship with twelve usually drunk sailors though, Vits did not fear this atmosphere. She walked into the local bar, a shabby, molding place that smelled like dried piss and sweaty men, but it did serve quality drinks at a reasonable price.

The actual building was about the size of the Opera Populaire's stage, with a long bar stretching along its back wall and opposite of that a small stage of its own, decorated by half out lights and ripped curtains. No one was singing yet, and the men who had showed that night were getting restless for their entertainment.

Vits wasted no time; they were waiting for her. She tipped a nod to the bartender who tossed her an empty beer mug as she took the stage. The beer mug was placed on the stage before her, in reaching range from Vits. The crowd cheered and nodded as she gestured to the mug, a reminder that she wished to be tipped for what she was about to do. They all agreed without question; she obviously was a regular.

In the middle of the cheering a familiar looking man slipped in silently through the door. No doubt he had seen Vits on her travel there, seen her as he always seemed to be able to, and followed her out of pure curiosity. He looked to her, that heart melting smile on his face and those dazzling blue eyes gazing so sweetly her way. Ethan applauded a little before heading for the bar, sending her a friendly wink as he settled into a bar stool.

Vits may or may not have noticed him, it didn't register on her face. Instead she closed her eyes, took a deep breathe, opened them and began singing. Her voice was in a high falsetto, something many would think such a deep voiced woman was not capable of reaching. It still sounded good, but to the extremely well trained ear, it was a little flat. She sung several raunchy bar songs, that the crowd seemed to enjoy from their drunken cheering.

The bartender watched Ethan, curiously. He leaned over, and gestured to the main attraction, "She's purty ain't she?" The bartender was an older grayed man, with a friendly face.

Ethan nodded but said wisely, "Not much to look at on the outside, but on the inside... god she is more beautiful than any person I've ever met."

The crowd seemed to want more, they practically begged, a few called.

The tender eyed him carefully, "Jest wait a sec. See what you think after this."

As if on cue Vits's fingers reached up to her shirt, and extremely seductively she began to unbutton it, revealing her well sculpted body. The shirt opened to expose her flesh in all its stimulating glory. Though her chest was small, they were ripe and round, easily hidden by the shirt, but nearly entirely exposed now.

Ethan's mouth fell limply open, and a scarlet blush crawled up his neck to spread over his cheeks.

The Bartender chuckled, as the crowd went wild. Several men walked up to the stage and dropped money in a cup sitting on the edge of it. A few tried to cop a feel, but Vits nimbly dodged, with a smile.

Ethan smiled at this, and although his cheeks were still a flaming red he said stubbornly, "Alright, so she's beautiful in all ways... but this little game she's playing now doesn't interest me. Unlike most men I look deeper than physical beauty, because that always fades. Besides, if I wanted to see skin I'd just take a stroll down the streets the whores work."

The bartender nodded, thankful that at least some of the men thought with both heads, not just the smaller one. "Perhaps there is a reason she does this. Can you imagine Vits, as you know her, to do this, and take such..."He paused trying to find the right word, "attention, in that manor?"

Ethan chuckled and shook his head, "I can't imagine... she always seemed so against the whole ordeal. Perhaps she has a second motive?"

The tender seemed defensive, "Of course!" He was extremely protective over Vits, all of her crew was. He looked at Ethan and apologized, "Sorry, I took her into my care after her father died. " He sighed and looked around.

The rest of the bar was captivated by Vits who, on top of singing, was doing a slow sensual dance. She held them in the palm of her hand.

"One of her men is having a kid. All of the money is going to the family," The bartender explained.

"Ah, I see," Ethan looked to her and beamed proudly, "Damn, she is an amazing woman."

"Yes she is," The bartender smiled and stuck out his hand, "I'm Captain Dres, second mate, under her."

Ethan took it and shook respectfully, "Names Ethan Willoughby- Vits's friend and her roommates brother."

They shook, Dres had a firm handshake, but not the bone crushing grip Vits had. "Ah, so you are little Ray's brother? She's a sweet heart," He smiled fondly and then gestured to the bottle behind him, "What'll it be?"

He smiled and shrugged, "What do you recommend?"

He thought, "Anything but the whiskey, she's a bit watery."

"How about a beer?" He asked, a quirky smile on his face.

"Sure," The tender poured Ethan him one with ease and slid it down the bar. Vits started a new song as Ethan grasped the mug in his hands. More money was placed into the cup on the stage; it was almost full.

Ethan took a small sip of the beer, sighing comfortably as he glanced over to Vits. "Well, lets see here," Ethan reached to his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. He handed Dres the money for his drink and then pulled out several American dollars. "This is about two hundred dollars in American bills," Ethan said, waving the slips in front of Dres, "You think this will help that friend of Vits some or is it not enough?"

Dres pushed his money offered to him away, "On the house", But he did gesture towards the cup. Upon seeing the bills, he nearly did a double take. To the men in this room that was a lot of money, "That would be more than generous."

Ethan nodded, "That's what I thought." He rose from the bar stool, ready to walk across the room and place his contribution in, simply as if it was pennies to him.

Ethan walked towards the stage, bills clenched in his hands. He made no eye contact with any other man there, holding his hand to his chest to conceal the money from their greedy eyes. Once at the stage he placed the bills casually in the cup, looking up to Vits only once to grin, and then turning back to the bar.

Surprise flashed in her eyes as she actually saw him for the first time, but it showed nowhere else.

Dres nodded to Ethan on his return, a nod of respect, "That was nice. Frank will not have to worry about money for a good while now."

"Good," He grinned, "Aint nothing worse to a man than not being able to provide for his family. I'm glad I could help." Dres nodded.

Vits finished singing for the night shortly after, and another waitress took over. She was slightly more sluttish than Vits, but such was her job.

The crowd was looking at the new girl, cheering when Vits walked off the stage. She picked up the cup that was entirely crammed full, tucking the precious container under her arm before promptly leaving the bar, exiting into the night without a word of goodbye.

Seeing her go Ethan swiftly gulped down his drink, saying to Dres before bolting out the door, "Thanks for the drink Mister." He then took off into the silence of the night, his eyes searching for Vits once in the dark streets of Paris.

Vits was kneeling on the side walk, talking to a young child standing in front of her. He couldn't have been older than eight, and a sickly thin at that. She handed him the cup, still full of money and whispered a few words to him. He nodded, and ran off with it, disappearing in to the darkness. Vits watched him vanish from view before standing up.

Ethan smiled warmly as he watched her, speaking only after the boy had vanished in a gentle tone, "That's a mighty fine thing you did tonight."

Vits spun around, surprised to be followed. She was stunned, and didn't quite know what to say. She blushed slightly before regaining her composure, "They really need it."

He nodded, "Well, still, you did a great deed. Do you think that family will be alright now?"

Vits nodded, "They should. It's Martha's fourth child," She gestured in the direction the kid ran off, "He's the oldest."

"He looks like a fine boy. Parents must be proud," He smiled again, making simple but pleasant conversation.

Vits nodded, "So why are you here?"

Ethan chuckled, "Well...it's simple really... I followed you in and-"

Vits's eyes flashed in anger, and she interrupted him harshly, "You followed me?"

He shrugged, "Kind of... I just noticed you, that's all. Wanted to talk to you so I just kind of followed."

Vits started muttering to herself, when the child came running back down the street, calling out, "Lady!" Vits didn't think, but rushed to the child. He excitedly explained that something was wrong with his mommy. Without any questions, Vits scooped the child up into her arms and took off at a dead run towards his house.

Ethan in his dismay couldn't think of anything else to do but trail after her, taking off at a sprint to keep up.

Their destination resided in the low rent district, the place could barely be called a shack. The entire neighborhood was impoverished, each house usually housing several families, and in need of great repair. The house Vits rushed into was no different, standing in the middle of the row, the trash lay in front of it, waiting for the next rains to wash it away. It was a three bedroom hovel, and the walls were paper thin. The main room was the kitchen dominated by an ancient worn table. There was another room to their immediate left, three sets of eyes peeked out from behind the cracked door. The other room's door was open, showing a sagging bed, and a women in great pain upon it. She was waiting for help.

Vits nearly skidded to a halt The child wiggled out of her arms, and disappeared into the separate room with the rest of his siblings. She quickly made her way over to the wife who was laying on the bed, legs spread. Vits rolled up her sleeves and began feeling around, trying to find the problem. She looked at Ethan, not terribly surprised to see him following, "Do you know anything about birth?"

Ethan's eyes widened and he stammered, "I saw my uncle deliver a cow once."

Vits looked at him, "Ok, so nothing."

She directed him to the woman's head, with her head and shoulders, her hands were busy disappearing into the woman's body. Her voice was demanding as she said, "Help Martha out, the baby's faced the wrong way, I have to turn it around."

She looked to the woman, Martha, "This is going to hurt, but just squeeze his hand. I'll tell you when to push." Vits worked as quickly as possible, turning the baby. The woman cried out in pain occasionally, and squeezed Ethan's hand when it was particularly bad.

Ethan flinched from the pressure as the woman clenched his hand, but ignored it as he smoothed her hair with his free one. "It'll be alright," He comforted softly, "Keep breathing. It'll be alright."

Vits swiftly straightened the new born out, and then calmly instructed the woman to push, and through the normal child bearing procedures. She obviously had some experience at this. The birth was fairly easy, and didn't take more than a few hours after Vits fixed the new born's position.

By the time Vits was done, her shirt, still unbuttoned, was covered entirely in blood, but she delivered a screaming boy to Martha, who was exhausted, but extremely happy.

Vits smiled at Ethan and whispered, "Good Job" It was obvious why she led the crew at such a young age. She could take charge and handle a situation better than most people, and she knew how to praise. Her words of encouragement felt spectacular, as if he had truly earned them-which he had. She also guided gently but firmly.

Ethan was trying his best to retain his composure and not pass out after going through such a stressful instant. He smiled weakly as if he were about to be sick, and began to massage his throbbing hand as he said, "That...that was unbelievable."

Vits smiled, "Indeed" She watched him for a moment before commanding, "Go get some fresh air before you pass out. I'll be a long shortly."

Ethan nodded and without another word exited the small house into the night air. He took it in in long, deep breaths, staring at the sky until his stomach had finally settled.

Vits joined him moments later, taking a deep breath of her own. She followed his gaze to the sky, saying with a heavy sigh, "Not too many stars out tonight."

He shook his head, "Nope." Both sat in silence for some time then, taking in the peace of the moment before Ethan commented softly, "You were really wonderful in there."

"Thank you," Vits took the comment gracefully, as the night wind blew. She shuddered realizing how wet her shirt had actually gotten, covered in blood from the delivery.

Ethan noticed and looked her over, "God, you're soaked. Well, that shirt ain't any good no more... you must be freezing." He paused to think over what he was about to offer and said cautiously, "You want my shirt to change into? It'll keep you warm, and it's clean- I promise."

Vits looked down at herself, "Oh, bloody." She thought about his offer, and was oddly quick to accept as she said, "If you don't mind. I'll return it."

He laughed, "No, I don't mind. I got less to show than you do... plus I ain't cold one bit."

He chuckled and without shame slipped his shirt up over his head, exposing a well muscled and finally toned torso. He most certainly had the muscles of a working man, built and evenly tanned. With a half grin he tossed his shirt to Vits and tucked his hands into his pockets, once again looking back to the stars.

Vits, without any hint to being modest, pulled off her own shirt, revealing her own muscled abs, and small chest. She had grown up around twelve other men; she wasn't afraid of them looking.

She pulled his on, over her head. Ethan's shirt fit Vits nicely, especially in the shoulders. Had Ethan been looking at Vits's back he would've seen the wooden handles of her knives peeking out from under the edge of her belt and disappearing beneath her pants. But they were covered by his shirt, "Thanks."

Being a gentlemen Ethan hadn't watched, and it was only until she spoke that he looked back at her. He eyed her over once and then grinned, "You look good in my shirt."

Vits chuckled. She glanced up again, and swiftly told the time from the few stars out. "A few hours before dawn. We should be heading back.'

Ethan nodded, before smoothly gesturing with his hand down the road, "Lead the way Mademoiselle."

Vits nodded, and led the way through town. They had a bit of a walk, seeing as they had been in the poor side of town, the shacks of houses over crowded with multiple families, usually. Gang violence ran rampant in this part town. She often rubbed the small of her back, fingering the handle of her knives, almost nervously, as they walked. Her eyes were careful and cautious.

Ethan noticed her movements but gave no question. He had already had his experience with those knives and had no wish to see them again.

She seemed to breathe easier once they left the section moving more towards the middle working class. The houses were nicer and the streets cleaner. She made an abrupt left after walking a few blocks, seeming to head back the way they had come, or at least towards the same section. They had gone out of their way for something. She deftly led them back to his hotel, on the richer side of Paris, near the Opera Populaire. Outside the Cervantes Inn she stopped and turned about to face him, crossing her arms and looking at him as if to be waiting for something.

Ethan stopped too, looking up to the hotel and then back to Vits. "Well," He grinned, "This is me. It's been a real... interesting night."

Vits chuckled, nodding,"Yes it has been." There was a brief awkward silence, and then Vits's body did something without asking her mind. She leaned in and gave him a soft, unexpected kiss upon his unprepared lips. Vits had never kissed, nor been kissed before, so once she got there, she was completely lost on what to do.

Ethan froze, his body tensing from the sudden surprise. It wasn't like he hadn't wanted it, in fact he'd been thinking about the whole ordeal for some time, but he had expected it to be him to kiss her, not the other way around. Her lips were warm and soft, a big surprise seeing as the rest of her was either rough or calloused. Her lips though... oh she was kissing him, and not pulling back. God, he felt like an idiot just standing there stiff and inactive. Finally he decided to act, gathered up his courage and returned the kiss, spilling out his passion through the gentle flesh of his lips.

Vits tensed as he didn't respond at first, and began to second guess herself, but she relaxed as he moved into the kiss. It felt extremely nice, sensations of warmth flowing from the kiss to spread about her body in slow, delicious waves. When they paused for a breath, Vits shifted her weight, nervous. "I-I didn't think, before, I did that..." She was trying to apologize but she really wasn't getting anywhere.

Ethan however was broadly grinning and having a hard time not smiling, "No really, I did not mind that...at all."

"Really?" The insecurity was a major character change in Vits, who normally was a self-assured rock, who at least showed that she felt nothing. But she was extremely novice in the ways of male-female relationships, and it showed.

Despite her uncertainty Ethan said in a low and lustful tone, "Yes." After a moment of more smiling Ethan finally took her hand in his, kissing it lightly before looking sorrowfully at the hotel. "You have to get going," He sighed regretfully, "Work tomorrow. Or, today." He laughed at himself, flashing his heart throbbing grin.

Vits smiled. "Yes I do," She sighed at being reminded of the constant list of things needing to be done hanging over her head. And then she remembered that her mother would be arriving about the time she finished the current set, a little more than a week.

Ethan sighed but gave her a smile, "I guess I'll be seen you later then?"

Vits nodded, "If you drop by."

He grinned, "Oh I will... I most definitely will." Then with that he kissed her once more before heading up the stairs to the inn. Before he entered though he turned back around and sent Vits a sweeping bow. "Till later Mademoiselle. I shall see you again, soon," And with that he winked and entered the inn.

Vits chuckled, shaking her head. She headed back to the Opera Populaire then, strangely for the first time in years feelings as if she were floating on air.

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"Arron!" The name had been screamed into the night, the terror in her voice resonating through the Opera House, spreading like a plague. Raylan bound from the sofa she had been sleeping upon, her hands tearing at her hair as she stared wide eyed at the room about her. Memories placed fake faces in the shadows, all of them cackling at her as if she were a fool. Her breath was ragged, her heart pounding feverishly in her ears, the sweat beading along her hair line.

She shut her eyes, trying desperately to rid herself of those horrid faces, those dancing corpses, but they had not vanished. They remained laughing in her mind, continued to flash her those blood stained teeth as they laughed. Laughing, laughing, laughing at her- calling her the fool, and saying she was to blame. Blame, blame all her fault, and they were laughing as she died inside, laughing as they had their revenge.

"Stop!" She screamed, covering her ears to try and block out their mocking, "Stop laughing! It wasn't my fault! Stop laughing! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please, stop laughing! Arron, make them stop! Please make them stop! No, Arron, not that way!" She screamed again, the images playing over in her mind, testing her endurance while reliving the memories. She couldn't though; she couldn't stand to see it again. Screaming once more she fled from the room, running away from the faces that snickered so viciously.

Raylan paid no mind to the pitch black of the early morning hours, the complete darkness that formed just a few hours before sunrise. She did not care about the dark, nor the danger she was in roaming the halls alone. All she cared about was getting away from those memories, escaping the past faces.

Raylan staggered down the halls, uncertain of every turn and twist, and only stopped when she found she had stumbled upon the stage. She tumbled to the floor, hiding her face in her hands, shaking away the haunting thoughts.

Of course, he was waiting there, ever standing vigil in the shadows of his box. He had been waiting for her, playing over what he planned to do in his head. The girl had pained him, destroyed one of the things he held most dear in his retched life. She deserved the same pain, the same misery, but when the girl had come stumbling into the auditorium his anger was set aside as question set it.

His eyes grew concerned as he listened to her pained screams. They tore at his heart. He had wanted to hear her scream, scream out from the pain he would place upon her, but not like this. He didn't want to hear this, this screeching of an utter misery that no physical damage could create. He watched her fall, shaking, on to the stage. Her emotional hell rang through his body, reminding him of his own, and without another thought ran swiftly to the stage. He knew this misery she screamed for, and desired then nothing more but to ease her pain, fearing that her despair would soon remind him of his own. His hands were gentle as he pulled the sobbing girl to him. He didn't say anything, he didn't need to.

Raylan's mind was fogged though, confused and uncertain, so when he had pulled her to him she began to panic. She fought him, struggling like a crazed man in his arms, pounding on his chest as she fought to free herself.

The Phantom would let her wear herself out, tire her so she would be calm. His arms were locked steel, holding her to him. "Easy," He whispered softly into her ear, his voice was captivating, soothing, and calm.

"Let me go Arron!" She screamed, the illusion holding strong in her mind, "Let me go! It wasn't my fault! It's wasn't! You did it! You did it!" Her nails scratched at his arms, pushed against him, but he would not let go. She continued to fight for far too long, and it was not until her knees gave out from the stress that she ended her struggle. She continued to sob, muttering incoherent things, but she refused to fight any longer.

Her body weight was nothing to him, the Opera Ghost who lifted his captured prize easily, and carried her out of the sight of the stage. Once within his private box, he quickly rearranged the chairs and footstools to form a makeshift bed, upon which he laid her down. His voice hovered above her head, soft and soothing. The sounds turned into words following a rhythm, and even in Raylan's dismay she recognized what this sound was. He was singing!

The sound cut through her panicked mind, easing the terror that haunted her. It swept over her memories, making the faces vanish into the darkness they had emerged from. Music was the only sound that filled her ears, the laughter being chocked away beneath the rhythm. Sweet melody, it forced her to relax, its magic making her yield to its power. Her panting had eased into a soft sigh, and only once the music had calmed her did she dare to open her eyes and look at the maestro of such a beautiful sound. Raylan's mouth chocked on words, and she mumbled in awe incoherently.

The Phantom did not notice his audience's reaction, but kept singing, finishing the song. When his voice had faded into the night she still remained staring, completely unsure of how to react except mumble words she was pretty sure she was making up now.

His lips leaned closer, his voice softer than velvet, and soothing as he said, "Hush, easy." His voice demanded her to be calm

She nodded, forcing her voice to calm as she said softly, "You...I thought you were someone...someone else."

He nodded, "So I understood. It's alright now. Just take a deep breath and relax, I'm not going to hurt you." His tone had not lost its calming quality.

Raylan nodded and took his advice, continuing her slow and shallow breathing. She was forcing herself to relax, rolling her shoulders and stretching her muscles as she continued to breathe, listening to the calming thud of her heartbeat. She took a few minutes to finish relaxing, and only after she felt comfortable did she speak, her voice soft like a whisper as she thanked him.

He smiled and sat back, but his eyes never left her. He took on the air of a shrink, "Now, what was that all about?"

She sighed, "I had a...a nightmare."

"It was more than a nightmare," His tone was slightly sterner, more concerned.

"Alright," Again she sighed, only this one was slightly irritated, "It was...a memory... a bad memory."

His eyebrow arched, waiting for more. He obviously knew she was hiding things.

She didn't continue though. She remained stubborn in that aspect.

The Phantom though was quick to take advantage of the opportunity. He carefully reminded her, "You did destroy _my_ mirror."

She nodded, slowly and solemnly, pure regret in her voice when she spoke, "I know...and I'm... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean... I... I'll pay to have it fixed."

His harsh, cold laugh made Raylan jump as he explained viciously, "You believe money will solve all your problems? It will not solve this one. No, no you must pay for the pain you caused me, with your own. An eye for an eye, Mademoiselle."

Her eyes narrowed and she had begun to breathe rapidly. He couldn't be asking this of her. No, he couldn't know. How could he ask her for something she couldn't give? Her voice was almost cold as she asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Your deepest pain. Your deepest fear. What has caused you the most pain?" His voice seemed to take on an eerie delight in finding this out.

She stared at him for a moment, her mind twisting the truth about, thinking up every lie she could form to hide the reality of things. "My deepest fear," She mulled it over, "...I don't like spiders." It was simple and sarcastic, but true.

He smiled a sadistic, almost evil smile, "There is worse lurking behind your eyes. "

The small smile she had mustered faded; she knew what he wanted to know. Her voice shook a little when she went to confirm, "You want to know who Arron is, don't you?"

"And his story,"

She nodded, "I assumed as much." Raylan sighed and adjusted in the chair bed he had formed for her. Her hand massaged the back of her neck, trying desperately to ease the tension. What was the minimal she could tell him, and still satisfy his hunger to know?

She continued to rub her neck nervously as she spoke, "Arron... he... he was my fiance back in America. I met him through my father... he worked for my dad, sort of was his right hand man. After I came back to living with my dad, I obviously met him... and we liked one another. He was my emotional support in that time. My mother had... she had recently passed away, and I hadn't seen my pops since I was thirteen so, it wasn't easy and Arron helped me get over the worst of the nightmares." She paused, looking to him to see if that would satisfy enough.

As she has suspect, the Phantom knew she hadn't told all, "There's still more. It won't do to lie to me. I'll know."

She sighed and nodded, "Alright... Arron had a... he had a slight drinking problem... no slight doesn't describe it... it was bad... extremely bad. He would get irrational, ridiculous, nearly go out of his mind. He'd drink a whole flask of whiskey before each job assignment- claimed it made him stronger, and more determined. He was good at what he did, don't get me wrong, he was great, but the boy thought he could do just about anything and get away with it. And god help me I was in love with him, foolishly in love,

"He could do the worst of things and I'd just... I'd just let it go, make excuses in my mind... because I was so damn fragile back then, and I'd be blind to anything just to hear him say he loved me. Anyways, I took a job under my father, spent more time around Arron, fell deeper into that insane puppy love. He was romantic... and I had a weakness for romance... too much of one,

" I knew his habits were bad, I knew one day they would destroy what him and I had become, but I didn't care. He proposed to me by the seaside," She gave a small laugh, "He had the ring in a hollowed out mussel shell. I couldn't get the damn thing open- he had to do it for me. We had planned to get married in April, the month of my birthday. Yea, it's funny how things don't go as you plan though."

"And he hurt you. How?" The Phantom's tone reverted back to its gentle prodding.

She bit her lip, fighting back very convincing tears. Most of what she had said had been truth, up until now. "I couldn't please him. I couldn't get anything right. I wasn't smart enough, wasn't pretty enough, wasn't daring enough... I apparently was nothing he wanted... except this," She gestured viciously over her body, "And foolish me gave him exactly what he was aiming for. After that he didn't want anything to do with me. Started buying off girls at the local cat house,

"I found him one night, drunk off his ass, some bitch riding him in the middle of the street like he was a mustang. When I saw him- I couldn't take it. I tore her off him... started screaming at him right there, making the biggest scene I have ever in my life. He didn't care, he just yelled on back, saying I caused this- that I 'made' him do it. You see nothing was ever Arron's fault- it was always mine in his mind, and after seeing him with that whore I had finally had enough. I took his ring off, threw it at his face, and tried to walk away... but he stopped me...sent a kick to the back of my knees, started kicking me in the stomach... beating me right there in the middle of the street and no one did anything,

"I blacked out. Woke up in the doctors office after being in a coma for two days. Arron had gone missing, and I was left with several broken ribs and a broken leg. Took me months to recover. After that I just went back to my normal life, thought everything would be alright, until Arron showed up again... begging me to take him back. He said he couldn't live without me, that he was sorry, and that he needed me, but I was smart this time and I rejected him. He wouldn't take no for an answer though, he... he became somewhat of a stalker. He was everywhere at every moment, pleading for me to take him back, getting more enraged every time I told him no,

"Arron was persistent beyond belief... he was there when I woke, when I went to work, when I ate... I mean for god sakes he would stand outside my window when I slept. I had finally had enough of it about a year ago... so one day without telling anyone, I ran away. I took the first ship to Europe and came here, trying to put as many miles as I could between us as money would allow. And here I am."

He nodded, accepting the pain in her story, but knew that it wasn't the pain of the real reason, certainly it had been part of the truth, but she deviated towards the end. Her lies, and reasons almost catching up with her. He understood though that he would not get any more from her... at the moment. He did plan to get the complete truth from her at one point. His voice was calm and soft, "Understandably. Has it worked?"

"Getting away from him?" She thought it over, "Physically, yes. Mentally...no."

The Phantom sighed. He knew this to be true more than Raylan could possibly imagine, "Mental wounds take the longest to recover."

She laughed harshly, "No shit." Silence held between them for a moment then, both of them lingering on the pain they could never express to its full potential. After some time, her voice came softly, "That's why I did it you know... broke the mirror... I looked in my eyes and I saw him, and I just... I didn't have the strength to just walk away..."

He looked up to her, for an instant capturing those deliciously deep brown eyes. There was truth in her voice when she had said that, mixed with a subconscious yearning to be forgiven. She would be spared for now, he had decided after moments of mulling the situation. Somewhere a clock rung five a.m. and the Phantom rose as he finally took notice to the time. The Phantom had other pressing engagements as the Opera house began waking up, but he wanted to make sure that she was going to be able to function then on her own, and wouldn't be haunted by the memories for the moment. His voice was gentle, but hurried, "Are you alright now?"

She smiled, surprisingly a true and flattering smile, "I'll be fine. No more need for concern Monsieur... this little talk helped... I've been needing to speak about that for far too long."

He nodded, "Then I must take leave. You may remain here as long as you wish. However, once you leave this box. Do not return upon pain of death." With that he swirled his cloak, and disappeared into the darkness of the box. His true exit remained a mystery.

She nodded although he had vanished, relaxing finally and chuckling to herself. The fool bought it. She could hardly believe the Phantom Of The Opera had bought her pathetic sob story of an innocent woman being wrongly used. Lord, what would he think if she had told him the truth? _Probably betray me_, she convinced herself harshly, _Or use my crime as a means to holding something over my head_. Raylan growled bitterly. True, she felt a bit of guilt for lying to him after he had been so generous as to not kill her for breaking his precious Christine Daae's mirror, but what other choice was there? She could not tell, not even to one as non existent to the world as he. They had made a promise, she and Ethan, they had promised never to tell, never to trust again, and she did not intend on breaking that promise.

Much to Raylan's surprise, Vits was already awake upon her entering of their room, and strangely enough, Vits was cooking. The smells coming from the frying pan, and oven were delicious and wafted out through the halls, occasionally luring the idle passerby to their closed door. She was still wearing Ethan's shirt, and her bloodied one was sitting over the back of a chair.

Raylan smiled warmly, "Well isn't this a delightful surprise. What's the occasion?" She closed the door behind her, saying a silent prayer that Vits would not question where she had been.

Luckily, she did not. Vits simply shrugged, "I was just up-I think, before you were." Vits didn't say that she hadn't gone to sleep that night.

"Well it's nice. Smells wonderful," She complimented her with a broad grin as she took a seat. It was then that she noticed the shirt on the chair and screeched, "Oh my god, Vits, what happened?"

Vits looked at Raylan "Noth-" She saw the shirt, "Oh! I helped deliver a baby last night...it got kind of messy"

"Oh," Raylan looked surprised when she turned her eyes back to Vits and squinted questioningly, "Who's shirt is that you're wearing?"

She responded, off handedly, paying attention to the eggs and bacon she was frying, "Ethan lent it to me."

Raylan's eyes instantly narrowed viciously and she said almost at a hiss, "Did he?"

"Yes," Out of sheer habit, Vits took on the same tone, "Generally when you see some one covered in blood, it's thought to be nice to lend them something else to wear. Seeing as it was just above freezing last night."

She nodded in agreement but continued to question, "What else happened? Between you and him?"

"Not much...I showed him the way to his hotel, and then came here," her voice was nonchalant as she expertly flipped the frying pan's contents with a deft flick of her wrist. She obviously didn't need someone else doing the cooking.

"Did he kiss you?" It was surprising how bluntly the question came out of Raylan.

Vits told the blatant truth, just not all of it, "No."

Raylan narrowed her eyes though with disbelief. She knew the boy too well to believe nothing happened. She craftily questioned, "So nothing happened? Nothing at all?"

Vits nodded. "Nothing happened." She quickly grabbed two clean plates, and tossed the food in the air, she caught all of the food on both plates, an equal portion for each, except one sausage, with she caught with her mouth before yelling, "Hot!"

Raylan continued to glare. She didn't believe a word of it, but forced a smile, "You just took it off the pan. It's going to be."

"Yeah, I should've known ..I've done this long enough," She set the two steaming plates on the table. Then pulled a fresh loaf of new baked bread out of the oven, and sat it next to the butter on the table.

Raylan got up and ate a little, every now and then silently commenting on how good it was. The conversation was oddly dead though; it was only bluntly obvious that Raylan was shocked, possibly even angered, by Vits news about her brother. She didn't believe a word of it, and that must was certain.

Vits actually was an amazing cook. She paused scrutinizing her own eggs, wondering silently if they needed more oregano. She decided against by the time she finished the plate.

She knew that Raylan didn't believe a word of what she said, Vits wouldn't have believed herself in Raylan's place. Vits sighed, she hated lying to her friend. It was time to face the music. Vits looked at Raylan, and put down her fork, then truthfully recounted the night's events. To an extent, she glossed over the money at the bar, insisting that she sang for pleasure. And how she knew the family that she aided the birth-claiming that they were friends, which is true. The rest, told straight.

"So you kissed him," Raylan finally said, her jaw stiff with irritation. She respected Vits for telling her the truth, but the fact that she did it and Ethan allowed her to annoyed her. Another of the promises she and Ethan had made- no attachments.

Vits nodded. "Look its was stupid." She looked up to Ray, "I've never trusted anyone, anyone as much as you two. Ever. I didn't think. And I'm sorry. I deserve whatever wrath you deem acceptable."

Raylan gritted her teeth, "It's not you that my 'wrath' will come down upon. It's Ethan. He... he knows better."

Vits looked at her with confusion, "But I kissed him. Me. I'm not entirely absolved of blame here."

Raylan eyes snapped to her, almost threateningly as she hissed, "He should have stopped you. He has the power to say no, and he didn't. My quarrel is with him... I don't expect you to understand."

For the rest of the meal the silence hung so heavy between them that you could have cut it with a knife. Raylan continually would pop her knuckles in anger, and Vits would nervously chew on a piece of bread. Vits had let the matter drop, wise enough to not push it any further, but she couldn't say she wasn't relieved when she got up, and started doing the dishes, silently lost into her own thoughts. Raylan had gathered her things for the days work and stomped out, slamming the door and no saying the goodbye she usually offered Vits.

Finally left alone, Vits cursed aloud, slamming her fists into the water she was washing the dishes with. In her mind she beat herself for kissing Ethan, for making that move without having no idea how his sister would react. How stupid could she be! It was then that her brain began to register how odd the matter was. Raylan was his sister, shouldn't she have been happy for him instead of viciously angered? Vits convinced herself that the act was a sign of Raylan being overprotective.

She went onto her normal routine then, returning to the hard exterior she showed to the people of the Opera, but something plagued her throughout the day, a dawning that made her critically review her situation. She came to the depressing conclusion. She truly did not know Raylan or Ethan. They had both successfully remained a mystery- to everyone.


	13. Foolish Mistakes

**Hey everyone! Sorry this chapter has taken so long. Marching band has consumed a lot of my time, like from eight in the morning to five in the afternoon so I've been really tired and not willing to write, but it's ok because got this chapter done over the weekend, and next week practices are shorter so I will have more time. Hurray! Anyways, this chapter is a bit more aggressive, but I still hope you all like it. If you do, let me know. I love reviews -wink, wink, hint, hint-.**

**A Few Thanks**

**shimmeringtears- Gah! You're in marching band too! Way too cool! And you play clarinet! ME TOO! AH! You are now my favorite reviewer on the planet! High fives for you! So glad you like the story. I promise I will have the next chapter up sooner next time. Have fun with your marching band! What marching band are you in? And thanks for the review!**

**Juilette Delphe- Sum, Sum, Sum. I love you girl, but you are the oddest friend I have- seriously. Lol, but if you want to do the next disclaimer...well... write it before you go to bed. Silly one.**

**Alright everyone. As always, please review, and I hope you enjoy! Laters!**

**-Olivia N.**

**Disclaimer- I own nothing from the Phantom Of The Opera... as sad as that it. I only own the made up characters for this story, and not Erik... but I can dream can't I?**

It's almost ironic how things happen at the worst of times. It always seems that as soon as you believe things could not possibly get any worse, life suddenly feels like it must prove you wrong by doing just that- making it worse. When it feels as if your anger could not boil over any further, something else happens. I suppose you could say that Raylan was one of these people that when fate decided to smite her the punishment was delivered in several repeating blows, instead of one strike and then letting the person continue on normally. Her small disagreement with Vits had triggered this ironic chain reaction, so naturally upon crossing the stage on her way to the costume department the cause of her frustration was 'conveniently' there.

While walking across the stage she had noticed Ethan's presence in the auditorium, her quirky brother in his all too eye catching glory seated on the edge of the stage. She wasn't surprised to see him surrounded by ballerinas, each one trying to catch his gaze with an 'accidental' flash of their legs. He was being the polite sort and carrying on humorous conversations with the girls, but it was only slightly obvious by the way he kept glancing at the several set workers that he was their for Vits.

Raylan's frustration boiled again, and she practically stormed over to the little circle of flaunting girls that had surrounded him. Like expected they had all looked questioningly up to her, all acting innocent.

Raylan gave a sassy whistle and a nod behind her as she spat to the girls, "Get. I need to have a private conversation with my brother." The last part had been hissed as almost a warning to Ethan, and she had seen the sudden 'oh shit' look glaze over in his eyes. He knew exactly what this was going to be about.

The ballerinas gave Raylan a lashing glare of defiance, but theirs was swiftly defeated by one of Raylan's own. Under her crushing gaze they cowered and silently slunk away, leaving the two Americans to have their chat.

Ethan tried to play it off as nothing serious, rising to his feet and engulfing Raylan in a brotherly hug. He felt her body tense in his arms, and he rushed to say in a whisper that only she could hear, "Easy. Don't make a scene."

Raylan lashed out with the fury he had expected, digging her nails viciously into his chest and shoving him away from her with all the strength her body possessed. He toppled back, nearly flying off his feet. The attention he had been trying to avoid was most certainly lost now, every eye had changed to them once the thud of Ethan regaining his composure echoed across the stage.

"What the hell was that for?" He shouted, using the onlookers as a reason for Raylan to calm herself. It didn't work.

Raylan hissed, "Don't play innocent with me Ethan. I know you far to well to fall for that game."

They exchanged vicious looks, both standing rigged and glaring at one another as if daring the other to make a move. Ethan was the first to make a mistake, his eyes darting over Raylan's shoulder to stare wishfully at something behind her. She naturally whirled around, and it came to no surprise to her that it was Vits his eyes had fleeted to.

Her roommate was avoiding looking their way, being the wise one and not giving Ethan any looks of encouragement. She was respecting Raylan's feelings, but Ethan would not give in so easily. Raylan had barely felt him pass by her, and it was not until Ethan came into view that it registered what he was doing.

Her brother was striding determinedly towards Vits, passing Raylan as if she were not there and waving his arms towards the stage manager, trying to catch her attention. Raylan practically took off at a run after him. Ethan was mere inches away from Vits, preparing to place a gentle hand on her shoulder, when Raylan's arms latched about his center. She pulled him back, forcing him away from his goal. With Ethan surprised into submission Raylan took advantage of the moment, literally dragging her brother from the stage and forcing him into the backstage area.

She had tugged him about then like a mother handling a spoiled and resilient child, through the winding passageways, on and on until she had found one hall entirely absent of others. Once certain that they were alone she forced Ethan to the wall, shoving him firmly against it as she began to growl, "You're a damned fool Ethan, you know that?"

Ethan glared at her, his blue eyes blazing in anger. "I thought that's what you liked about me," he retorted in harsh, vicious sarcasm.

Anger flashed in Raylan's eyes, and she balled her fist, restraining herself as she forced her voice to come out gentler than before, "You know that's not true. I loved you for many other reasons, you being a fool had never been an advantage or a problem- until now."

He crossed his arms over his chest, a defensive gesture. Part of him knew she was right, but he refused to admit it. A true man. "How?" He refused to act calm, his tone still filled with frustration.

"I know what happened between you and Vits. Don't even try to lie to me, you know I can tell when you are lying," Her voice spoke the truth harshly, "Why, Ethan? How can you be so reckless? You know the dangers in getting attached, especially in you falling for someone. You have the hardest of times keeping secrets from the ones you love- you and I both know you would tell her if you let yourself fall. We can't risk it Ethan- we are in too deep of water for you to do this."

Ethan growled, angered that she was right. Still, he wouldn't admit to it. "No! Eb, can't you see? Can't you see she's different? She's not like the rest of them," He gestured in the vague direction of the ballerinas attempting to listen, and Vits's men thwarting their attempts beautifully, "She's different! She's like us! This time is different. I won't slip up! I swear! Look, she wants to run too! Don't you see how she can help us?"

"Help us! She knows nothing of us, Renold," Raylan scoffed loudly, "She's just like Melanie- just like her! Don't play with me, I know you are drawn to Vits because she reminds you so damn much of the Melanie you once knew. And if Vits is anything like her than you know how this will end- and I will not be betrayed again. Do you hear me? I refuse to be betrayed again!"

For a few seconds a tense silence held between them, and then the moment began its climax as Ethan exploded. "No she's not!" He shouted, taking a threatening step forward, "She's much stronger than Melanie ever will be! Do you know anything about her! Do you know what has happened to her! Do you even care?"

Raylan exploded in the same fashion, "I care about what happen to us! For god sakes use your brain! We will _die_, Renold! _We_ will die if we are found! _We_ can not take the chance!"

Ethan growled, he knew she was right. But still he really wanted to get to know Vits further, there was definitely more to her, things she was hiding. That and she was an amazing kisser. It was obvious to Raylan that Ethan knew she was right, but like all men, he was a stubborn ass. He said softer but in a strong growl, "If it helps us, we can. And she will. We need all the help we can get."

Raylan sighed heavily, her voice barely above a whisper as she replied, "No Ethan, no one can help us. We can't drag her into this. It is our problem, our consequence for our stupid mistake. If she helps us they'll be after her too... and I refuse to let that happen to her. I know telling you to stay away from her wont do any good, but don't you dare tell her the truth. It is our problem, let it remain only our problem."

Ethan sighed. "I promised before any of this ever happened that I wouldn't tell another soul. I will keep that promise, Ray." He reached out and gently cupped her cheek. He still loved her, not as they once had, but instead a deeper love, that can only come from saving each other's lives. His tone was finally gentle as he continued, "What we did, is our problem. I refuse to hurt her by dragging her down with us."

Raylan nodded, sighing with relief. She placed her hand on his, stroking the soft skin with her fingertips. She could still remember the time his touch had taken the pain away, had freed her from the nightmares and regret, but that time had come and gone. His flesh to hers no longer made her feel safe, no longer made her feel loved. In the silence her ears suddenly caught the distant rustle of something, of some swift movement, and Raylan swiftly backed away from Ethan, pushing his hand away.

Her eyes darted suspiciously about, and she muttered without looking to Ethan, "I have to get to work. Madame Dacio is going to be furious that I am so late." After several more checks she finally looked to him, saying meaningfully, "I don't want you to return here unless you have heard something. Only come back if something's gone wrong, that way I wont be panicking every time I see you. Remember, you're on watch. I know you want to spend time with Vits, but do not forget to do your job."

Ethan nodded, his caress so easily forgotten, the pain brought back into her eyes. The fear seared through his soul. He understood the necessity of Eb-Raylan's coldness, it had saved their lives before. And it would, time and time again. He honored her for her courage to put feelings aside, and live as if nothing mattered, and no one did, but he knew that he couldn't. He never would be able to. Ethan nodded, silently.

Raylan looked to him. Her eyes displayed compassion and kindness, but her voice came out cold as she warned, "Be careful." With that she left him, walking briskly down the hall and turning the corner without so much as a second glance his way.

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Vits was alone on the stage, the set had been moved out, in various pieces. She carefully moved among them, inspecting each piece, noting various things that needed to be changed, or adjusted. She had ignored the questioning eyes of those who had caught on to the reason for Raylan and her brothers fight, dodged their questions. It was none of their business truly, but she had to admit she didn't like the unwelcome attention.

Ethan had emerged from the hall that Raylan had pulled him into, his head swimming as he walked in almost in a daze across the stage. He had been so wrapped in his previous conversation in fact that he conveniently walked right into Vits without realizing it, hitting her with light impact and then stumbling back, shaking his head to clear the fog he had been in.

Vits spun, around growling a strict curse, and roughly shoved him. "Watch where you're going. You great lummox!" She walked back into her shop to write down everything she had just inspected.

Ethan looked stunned. He stood there for a minute, mulling over what just happened and then finally decided to go find out. He entered Vits shop with a polite knock and said softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to run into you. I was in a bit of a haze."

She barely looked up, and barked, "Door."

"What?" He looked questioningly at her.

She looked up, her hand still writing, "Close the door."

He silently did so, stepping further into the shop and closing it softly behind him. Ethan then returned his gaze to her, watching her write in uneasy silence.

Vits finished her writing, slow and measured, and then slammed the pencil down. Her look was sharp upon him, making him flinch. Her tone was even harsher, "I saw everything you've done today. Don't let it happen again. Here we don't know each other. Understand?"

Ethan's brows creased, "So you want to act like nothing happened? What is it? You ashamed that people might think you actually like someone?"

Vits glared at him, "No! You jeopardize my job, fool! These idiots live upon what they can pull from you. How they can make your life miserable. How much pain they can cause you. Whatever happens between us, will effect me and your sister. I will not put her through that. Do you understand? I spent most of my time trying to deal with the assholes who have power here. It took me years to realize how to deal with them-offer no weakness. I will not bow to them. I refuse." Her tone had not lost its harsh quality. She was not yelling at him, her voice remained it's level tone, but she sounded as if she were berating him, nearly physically beating him.

Ethan retorted quickly and coldly, "Maybe it would be better for me to just stay out of your life then." His jaw tightened, and again anger flashed threateningly through his eyes.

Inside his temper was growing, getting dangerously close to boiling over, and his fists constricted as he willed himself to retain his composure. Rejection, tossed away by another he had even bothered to care for. Why did he even bother to feel? Perhaps he should have taken Raylan's approach, tucking away all emotions and become as cold and distant as a bottomless pit. Was that the only means of not getting hurt?

Feeling like he could no longer contain himself Ethan retreated, giving a low and mocking bow to Vits before saying harshly, "Sorry to be such an inconvenience Ma'am." He exited then, slamming Vits shop door on his way out.

Vits watched him sadly, wondering if he were right. She sadly sank into the chair, her hand raising to her temples as she began to massage them in frustration. Part of her wondered about letting him in, would it be worth the torment she'd have to pay for? Her mind quickly snapped that shut, she had not wasted all these years of struggle just to change her ways. Besides, it was just a boy. Just a kiss. Still, her heart wondered if it indeed was _just_ a kiss.

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Night settled around the city, and in so the Opera House. Midnight's performance was about to begin. The sole dancer stood, center stage, her cautious glance searching the room for the eyes that should not be watching. Gracefully she stretched, twisting her body, teasing the audience.

Suddenly she leapt into action, to a song only in her head, a rhythm which she commands. A music of her own feelings rushing beneath her, the grace coursing through her veins, as her body twirled crossing the stage with leaps and bounds, pausing merely to tell a story.

A tale of rage, fiery passion burning through the soul, flowing into defensiveness, a fight she was trying to win, and losing with every graceful step. She backed herself into a corner, then beautifully flipped out of the corner, breaking free. But that freedom was short lived as her music changed, her rhythm slowed, pain and sadness evident by her mesmerizing movements. Misery became a companion through out her dance, as questions interwove, wishing to know what was the right move.

Two paths stood before her-which to take? The puzzlement consumed her dance, the question plagued her, and showed through her body language. The possibility of happiness, but would it be worth the pain that it takes to get there? Would it out last the consequences? Or stay where she is, unhappy but safe? Just as her dance conveyed the questions to her audience, she sought the answer to them for herself. She did not have the answer.

Vits stopped abruptly, she truthfully didn't know. Her green eyes looked out over the empty, silent auditorium. There was no answer within the seats. No help lay within the busts of the statues. She shook her head, and slipped silently off the stage, into the darkness.

Raylan emerged mere seconds after Vits had abandoned the stage, only then departing from the shadows that had concealed her from her friends gaze. A single stream from a single tear drifted down her cheek, dripping from her chin to crash dreadfully on the ground below. She had caused the pain Vits danced with this night, the confusion in her steps was Raylan's mistake alone. If she had only kept her mouth shut, if she could have just ignored her damned fears than maybe Vits dance would have been of joy, of a new hope.

Raylan had crushed that hope, destroyed it once she began this imprudent battle with Ethan. Lord, if she had only let them be, would their have been peace in Vits steps instead of despair? Still, what other choice did Raylan have? Vits would enchant him, and he would bow before her as if she were a queen. He would break in Vits arms, and admit to her the secret that they held. Ethan would be weak with love, and in doing so destroy everything that they had worked so diligently to hide.

Raylan's walk was slow and grave as she headed down the aisles of seats, headed towards the abandoned stage. She walked almost in a haze, her mind elsewhere, leaving herself vulnerable and unguarded. Absent of her senses she had not noticed a presence when she finally stepped upon the stage, pacing slowly towards him.

He didn't not hide within his grandeur, nor behind his secrets and shadows. Instead the man of darkness walked boldly across the stage in its dying light. His anger hidden behind his mask, but his eyes trembling at the sight of her tears. Despite his anger his voice was soft and subtle as he questioned, "Why the tears?"

Raylan's head snapped up, and she stared at the Phantom with wide, alarmed eyes. He had startled her. Her hand swiftly went to her cheek and brushed the water away. "Vit's dance," She lied, in a rather convincing but timid tone, "Stirs emotions you know."

Instantly the tenderness vanished, the anger returned as his lip curled into a sneer. In slow, threatening steps he drew himself close to her, mere inches from her face as he spoke harshly, "Twice you have lied to me." His hands suddenly whipped from behind his cloak, and forced her back, "I will not stand for this."

Raylan stumbled, but rather abruptly regained her balance. So he had indeed heard the conversation she had shared with Ethan. She should have suspected him to be listening, should have been more careful, but it was too late for that now. Her bluff had been called.

She bravely shot a look of warning his way as she hissed, "You think just because you're the dreaded Opera Ghost that I must submit my past to you? My past, my reasons, my life is none of your concern!"

"But because I am the 'dreaded' Opera Ghost, you are under my rule. I will not be lied to!" He hissed, a threatening leer staring out from behind the mask.

Raylan mockingly scoffed, "You are the master of lies Monsieur. You will receive only as much as you give." There was strong command in her voice, a dominating tone, her own need to control.

Anger flared in those depthless eyes, and Raylan for a moment was socked by the sheer audacity of them. She did not see his hand lift until it had whipped across her face, reeling her head back with a sharp snap. "How dare you!" His voice hissed sharply, "You filthy little wench!"

There had only been an instant when Raylan was stunned, a few seconds that seemed to last as hours before instinct took over. Quicker than a flash her fist balled and flew forward, sending a shocking punch to the unmasked cheek of the Opera Ghost. From the combined rage and instinct to defend herself she had hit him harder than she had intended, making his head whip to one side and his stance waver.

Her hands remained raised, poised to strike again as she shouted, "Don't you ever strike me again you pitiable bastard!"

She instantly realized the horrid mistake she had made when his gloved hands disappeared within his cape, reappearing seconds later holding a thin rope. The smell of Death reeked through the air, as his snake like fingers manipulated the rope to form a noose faster than the eye could watch. He took a step backward, to give him more space, better throwing room.

He had had enough of this foolish girl. The noose snaked through the air, flying for its prey, but to meet it a dagger sung from the shadows, slicing the dried rope. The dagger sunk deep into the wooden stage, along with it the discards of the Phantom's lasso.

Raylan stared wide eyed, shocked by the sudden happening. Her eyes flew in search of the owner of the dangerous instrument, and to her wonder came upon the stern face of her companion, her brave Vits.

The green eyes watched from their darkness, her second knife glinted in the weak light. Her lips muttered, "Run! Run you fool!" but it was too late. Darkness came upon them as the lights went out. Vits silently cursed, letting her eyes adjust.

However, he was quicker than her eyes, seizing his chance hidden within his element. His gloved hands seized Raylan's pretty southern throat, and squeezed. Death filled her nostrils as the air was forced out of her lungs.

Only a small shriek emerged from her throat before all means of sound was cut off all together, along with it the very breath of life. Her eyes grew wide to stare this madman in the face, into those green orbs that flared with an uncontrollable, firing rage. Raylan's fists raised, beating at his arms desperately, praying to weaken his hold, but his hands remained firm and unyielding.

Gradually her strength waned, her strikes slowing and becoming softer by the second. In her ears she could hear the timed beating of her heart, drumming slowly her impending doom. It ticked ever slower, the gaps of dreaded silence growing lengthier between beats, but strangely she felt nothing, numbed to all except some distant relief. She had so longed for everything to be over, and finally that time had come.

Her heart announced weakly its last dying beat before a black haze consumed her, the night he so loved dragging her into the final seconds...

...and then there was nothing.

**Oh! Raylan is in a little bit of a predicament isn't she? Will she live? Will she die? Will she suddenly rise from the dead and tackle the Phantom and begin to fondle him for no apparent reason? Only I know...and Sumner... but still... I know! Ha! And only the next chapter will tell. Hehe, please review, and thanks everyone!**

**-Olivia N. **


	14. Desperate Acts

**Hey everyone! Look, I'm back, with an update! Thrilling right? Lol, anyways, sorry this one took so long as well everyone. Been busy with Marching Band and plus Sumner up and disappeared for this week so there was a moment of separation anxiety... not really but I have to have some excuse for being so late with this. **

**So- I think this chapter is going to be pleasing. We have set the stage for upcoming major Erik and Raylan interaction...and we are finally revealing Raylan's secret... or the major part of it just without the details. Hope it's a surprise when you find out.**

**A Few Thanks**

**shimmeringtears- I am so sorry we kept you waiting! I know, I hate cliffhangers myself, but I must use them occasionally. Have I mentioned that you are the best reviewer on the planet? Well...you are. I'll try to not to make any more cliffhangers for you. Thanks bunches!**

**surf with music- Yea, I love reviewers who are willing to tell me their opinions, it's extremely informative. Sorry about the cliffhanger! I know it's horrible. Glad you are enjoying the story though- I hope it stands up to your expectations. Love your comments, and more Erik is soon to come. Thanks again!**

**Juilette Delphe- Sumner! Don't give anything away! That's our little secret. Shsshhhh. And come back! I miss you!**

**Alright, so, here is the story! Enjoy! And please review! You know the drill. Thanks!**

**-Olivia N.**

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She stayed in the darkness, waiting, her mind screaming in desperation, _Come on Raylan! Give me something to work with! _Vits couldn't see, she had to wait for Ray to make a sound, to give away her position. Then at last she heard it! A faint shriek. Vits took her risky shot, throwing her knife with deadly accuracy. She aimed for just below the chin. If she was right it would nail him in the hand. If she were wrong, she would cut Raylan's throat.

A satisfying thud let Vits know she had been right. She heard the near silent curse, followed by the ruffle of his cape. A heavy thump announced that Raylan had indeed been released.

As the Phantom left the stage, the lights returned, and Vits was already halfway to her friend's body. Raylan lay crumpled upon the floor, a pale and limp image of the deceased. Her plump southern lips had already begun to turn a tint of blue, the once beautiful coloring of life slowly draining from her body.

Despite her shaking hands, Vits took hold of her roommate's wrist, searching for a pulse. Her own quickened as she felt none. "Damn it!" She cursed, resting her head upon her friend's heart. "Come on! Ray! Fight, damn it! FIGHT!" Vits urgently called. Then at last, her call was answered.

It was faint, a slimmer of a heart beat, but it was there. Vits quickly massaged Raylan's neck getting the blood to flow through her veins, feeling the life grow stronger. She gently pried the near deceased's mouth open, and forced air into her lungs.

"Come on Ray, just a bit more. Give me more," She whispered, and began to push upon the girl's diaphragm, trying to get her lungs working.

"Come on!" She nearly screamed, "Damn it! I need it! Ray! HELP ME!"

Her voice turned desperate. Again she pushed breath in the body, watching the chest rise. She pumped her friend, forcing the breath in and out, trying to get the heart to work. She felt the beat grow stronger.

"Please Ray, don't give up on me. Not yet!" She whispered, as she forced more air into her lungs. She waited. Vits knew she had one more try, and if she failed, well...there would be a new grave tonight.

She pumped her friend's lungs, tears rising to her eyes as she whispered, "Don't you dare leave me. Don't you dare."

Time slows in moments like these. What may have been just seconds could seem like hours, and minutes like a life time. Your whole world is put on pause, and all you can do is sit there, helpless and praying to God that life will return again.

Everything that mattered before is cast aside for that moment; your focus becomes that hope that they will pull through, full of uncertainty and desperate wishes. Many have been let down, prayers left unanswered, and wishes denied. Time will return, leaving your world shattered and faith waning on the edge of a knife, and life will go on without a second glance to the one it had lost.

Sometimes though, there are those who will not accept denial and refuse to loose hope. They will stare death straight in the face, and tell him that this persons life he can not have, and they will fight him for it until there is no more hope left to hold. Vits fought, demanded fate itself to bend to her will, and this time her prayers would be answered.

Raylan's chest suddenly jolted forward as the breath of life returned to her, her eyes shooting open as she gasped and heaved for the air that she had formally been denied. Her breathing was raspy and mixed with extreme coughing, but she was indeed living once more.

Vits sat back, wisely letting the girl cough her lungs out. She was breathing, and as long as she stayed that way, she would be alright.

Raylan continued to cough horrendously for a good few moments, and had only fallen into normal breaths when she had exhausted herself. After that Vits pulled her friend to her feet, and lead her back to their room in slow, measured steps. Once safely inside their apartment Vits rested her friend upon the couch. She quickly went to the kitchen and poured a drink of something from her hidden stash and swiftly returned to kneel before her friend. She shoved it in Raylan's hand with a blunt order, "Drink."

Raylan took the drink without any question. She brought it to her lips and drank down a heavy gulp before she began to cough an enormous amount once more. "God!" She gagged, "What the hell is that?"

"Scotch," Vits nodded approvingly, "It's damned good scotch."

Raylan lips thinned in disgust as she handed it back to Vits, muttering scratchily, "I don't drink."

Vits nodded, and went back to the kitchen, downing the scotch herself on the way there. She returned a second later and handed Raylan a different, taller glass of a clear liquid, demanding again, "Drink."

Raylan took it, raised a skeptical eye, but drank it anyways. She was relieved to find that it was water, icy water that dripped so welcomingly down her burning throat. She drank the whole thing without stopping, downing the liquid to relieve some of the pain on the walls of her throat.

Raylan then handed the empty glass back to her with a nod of appreciation before laying back into the couch. Her eyes shut for a moment, almost making it seem as if she had fallen asleep until she said weakly, "You saved me...thank...thank you."

Vits shrugged, "You would have done the same for me. Now sleep, morning dawns soon."

Raylan shook her head, trying to fight it. She didn't want to go to sleep, didn't want to be left vulnerable again, but exhaustion made her weak to the nights charms. After only a second of defiance she fell into a heavy slumber.

Vits went to her room, but did not sleep. Her puzzle still consumed her mind. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him, making her smile. making her happy for the first time in so many years. She felt his lips, his warm caress. It had been one of the most enjoyable experience in her life, kissing Ethan had been almost a dream. On the other hand, kissing him hand caused the most tension she had ever felt from Raylan. _He should have stopped you_, Vits had remembered Raylan hissing as if the action was mutiny, _He has the power to say no, and he didn't. My quarrel is with him... I don't expect you to understand_. And she didn't, she did not understand this at all. With her mind rambling, she had to get some relief. An hour before dawn, she went walking, hoping that her morning ritual would clear her head, or provide an answer.

As usual, Vits allowed her feet to carry her, as her head was preoccupied with other thoughts. Her question still plagued her mind. She boiled it down to Mind over Heart. But was that right? Would that be the right answer?

She did not realize where her feet had led her until she started to walk up the steps to his hotel. Before the door of the Cervantes Inn she shook herself, and looked longingly at the windows. Again she shook her head, and walked down the steps. _No_, she did not have an answer, _Not yet_. She had nearly made it to the last step when the creak of the inn door sounded. There was a pause then, the silence that confirmed that it was indeed he who had opened the door.

Vits stopped unsure what to do. In the end curiosity got the better of her as she slowly rotated on the spot, until she faced him.

Ethan stood there, plastered in the threshold, uncertainty sketched all over his face in hard, concentrated lines. His mouth was slightly limping open as he fumbled for something to say. He hadn't intended on running into her that morning. He was going to go for his morning walk as usual, just avoid the Sine to avoid the pain of seeing her. In no way had he expected her to be here. She never ceased to surprise him.

Vits also didn't know what to say. She had not intended her feet to take her here-to him. But then again her feet had a mind of their own. She still wore his shirt, having lost the chance to acquire a new one yesterday. She met his eyes, trying to find what lay within them.

Staring, they were just both staring at one another, neither of them daring to utter a word. Ethan had managed to get a gentle ummm out but nothing more.

The moment was lost in that silence, Vits looked at him with troubled eyes. Then she turned and fled, in the direction of the Sine, her refuge.

Vits managed to get halfway there, before she stopped. No, running was not the answer. Taking a deep breath she gathered herself. She knew what she wanted. Calmly she forced herself to return to his hotel, hoping that he would be there.

Ethan was maybe a few steps away from his inn, walking solemnly in the other direction, but he stopped when he heard footsteps.

She watched him, wondering if she had made the right decision. If happiness could truly over rule her mind, and allow her a moment's rest from the cruel power driven world of the Opera House, she would risk it for that.

Ethan turned around, once again looking to her with those cool, calming blue eyes. Although uncertain he did offer her a small grin, one of a rather tiny hope.

Vits returned the grin, with one of her own. She walked to him, covering the ground easily. For that fleeting moment, she had chosen right. What the next held, she didn't know, but she would take it as it came.

Vits broke the silence first, with serious news. "Your sister damn near died last night," Her tone was soft, and calm but still there hidden hint of fear.

There had been a small bit of hope in his eyes when she approached, but as soon as she delivered the news it was replaced with enormous concern. "What?" He looked terrified, "How? What happened? Dear lord is she ok? Why did you leave her alone? Is she alright? What the hell happened?"

"She's alright, now. He only tried to strangle her," Vits said, then going on to explain the past night to him, ending with, "It was easy breaking the lasso. It was hard hitting his hand in the dark." She shuddered to think what would have happened had she missed.

Ethan looked shocked, "What the? But why did he try to kill her? What did she do that deserved such a thing? And who the hell does this guy think he is? He has no right to touch her that way." Anger flared in his eyes, and his shoulders hunched with irritation.

"The Phantom is the one who rules the Opera House-we all must submit to it, or die. Why, I don't know. I didn't hear-and I'm not going to ask. His reasons are his alone. Asking will merely result in my death-followed by hers. And possibly yours," Vits was strangely entirely calm about this, "He only strikes like that after dark."

Ethan fell silent, running a hand through his hair in frustration as he mulled something over. After sometime he had begun to pace, and he did not stop until he began to speak again. "She can't stay there then," He said strongly, "I wont let her endanger herself like that just so she can keep a low profile. She can't die, you understand, she can't. I need her."

"Ethan, you risk losing her if you bring her out of there. Raylan can take care of herself. She has too. You can not remove her from there, and you know it. Stop this foolish thinking," Vits's tone was stern. She didn't know the situation, and she didn't care. She did know that the Phantom would come looking for Ray, if she left the Opera House, particularly without getting his answers. And when he found her, only Death awaited.

"Why does he have to know?" Ethan spat harshly, "Raylan is tormented enough with those memories buried inside her. Why does he have to dig them up again?"

"Boy, you are asking the wrong person. But believe me, if you bring her out here. She will certainly die. Sometimes safety lies within the lion's den," Her words were wise, but like usual they would be ignored.

Ethan growled, "You don't understand...we have to leave. We have no choice. The time is getting closer that we will have to run. She can't remain there even if she wanted too."

Vits shook her head, "Once you leave the country, you both will be free. From him at least. For the moment Ray will have to bite the bullet and keep her head down." Vits paused only for a second before making a well calculated guess, cautiously saying, "If you two are on the run, there is no better place to hide, than the Opera Populaire."

Ethan looked suspicious and then said rather defensively, "How could being in the madman's house be any better? And what makes you think we have any desire to hide out? What? You think we have a reason or something? Because we don't. We just like to move around."

Vits cut him a level gaze, "Ethan do I look stupid?"

He eyed her up and down and said lightly, "Do I have to answer honestly?"

Vits chuckled. "You were never meant to act. And you, don't like moving around-that much is obvious. Or at least moving around the way yall are," She paused, "Listen, I grew up on a ship of pirates, being on the run isn't new to me. I know how to identify it. The sudden appearance, the extra suitcase that Raylan carries, the unusual tension between you two- it's written all over your actions."

Ethan then played a crafty game, side stepping the subject of he and Raylan, and questioning Vits on her words. "Pirates?" Surprise sounded in his voice, "You said it was with sailors...not pirates."

"They are one in the same," She said smoothly.

"Only respectable sailors don't usually plunder for a living," Ethan continued to prod, giving a quirky smile.

"Neither did these," Vits shrugged, "We more or less acted as a carrier for other pirates treasure. We deposited it with in their secret hideouts, so they didn't have to make as many trips, then took a bit of the ration for our labors."

"Ah," Ethan shook his head, "I have absolutely no idea about that sort of thing."

"I didn't expect you would. Most don't," She chuckled. Vits enjoyed having him near, and relaxed as their playful banter resumed. She knew she had made the right choice.

Ethan allowed the banter to continue, easily manipulating the conversation to not return to his and Raylan's purpose for being there. He had to admit, Vits simply figuring out something was impressive, but he couldn't allow her to pry him anymore. Raylan was right, he was weak to those he cared for. He had to restrain himself, drown his thoughts in their conversation and not think of the truth so he would not be tempted. Do his job, that's all her had to do. Keep quiet, and do his job.

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A few days passed since the incident that night on the stage Surprisingly the Americans near death had remained a secret between Vits, Raylan, and the Phantom, the eagerly gossiping Opera House never discovering the drama that had occurred. To Vits disappointment Ethan had never appeared to inquire upon his sisters well being, but for the most part her work that week had kept her occupied.

The set, in its entirety was completed one week day afternoon. Along with the work being done for the upcoming play, the entire house was in a bustle, everyone thrilled about the greatness that would soon be in their presence. Malorea Chalondra was arriving that night.

Each day, the Patron glowingly informed Vits of her mother's arrival, and each day Vits had grown snappier and snappier. She was glaring at everyone now, and they all avoided her like the plague. She and her crew were hammering out the last details, and quirks with the set, mostly how to move it quickly and silently between acts. In fact, they were busy on stage, moving various pieces. The men worked in perfect unison, as a team, and Vits for the moment dictated where each piece would be moved to, and marked it back stage with chalk. Later she would help when the details had been sorted out.

To her surprise, a blur rushed past her, a blur she recognized. _Ethan_, her mind suddenly realized. Vits quickly stopped Ethan in his tracks, before he tripped over an open trap door in his haste. "Whoa, watch where you are walking. You'll get hurt. Ethan... what's wrong?" She asked in a light conversational tone, after she had forcefully pushed him out of harm's way.

Ethan looked befuddled, his hair a wild mess and his eyes so wide it looked like he was mimicking an owl. His breath was ragged and his pulse thudding, the precipitation forming around his hairline confirming that he had run there. Now he stared at her as if he didn't recognize her and his words came out loud and alarmed as he asked, "Where is Raylan? I need to see Raylan."

Vits looked him over, slightly alarmed at his state. She glanced at her men, and curtly told them, "Go take a break." They quickly scattered, Vits leading Ethan to the shop, and shut the door. Alone, she asked in a voice of concern, "Ethan, what's happening?"

"I have to talk to her!" He said, his voice still in the panicking state, "Please, please, please, take me too her. It's important. It's so important- please. I have to talk to her. I have to!"

Vits's shout then, her voice in a sharp crack like she had slapped him across his face as she spat, "Ethan! Get a hold of yourself man!"

Ethan shook his head, and although he still remained alarmed he forced his voice to sound calm as he said, "Please...Vits... please. It's urgent."

Vits looked him over, "Alright, now that you have some of your wits. And you're not trying to get yourself killed. Wait here, I'll go fetch Raylan. I have more power than you."

He nodded, resting his body against one wall and taking in slow, shallow breaths. "Thank you," He mustered the strength to say between breaths.

She gave him a stern look. "Stay and don't do anything stupid" She left, closing the door behind her. A minute later Vits reopened, allowing Raylan in and then Vits before she slammed the door shut. She gestured at Ethan, "This fool damned near killed himself."

Raylan surprisingly didn't ask questions. Instead her eyes were stern and warning to Ethan, reminding him of how she had not wanted him to return.

Ethan's words though immediately changed her gaze as he said at almost a whisper, "Raylan...they...they're here."

At first Raylan looked terrified but after a few moments of letting his words sink in her expressions returned to calm and controlled. She turned smoothly then to face Vits and asked very calmly, "Vits, could you please leave the room?"

Vits nodded. "I have an errand to run," She looked at Ray, "Let Dres know when we can use the shop again." Her voice wasn't harsh or pointed, she knew that they needed privacy, and so she cleared out.

As soon as Raylan was sure the door had been securely shut Raylan whirled on Ethan, "Tell me exactly what is going on!"

Ethan looked at her with sad eyes, "They've become smarter, Ebony. They're narrowing in. They know were here, in Paris. They've got the city surround, every method of transport is being searched and controlled. We've no place to run, no place at all. The gig is up."

Raylan paused, taking it all in, and then began to slowly shake her head, "No...no, there must be something we can do. They can't possibly have every place blocked; there has to be some road you've overlooked. Please...Renold, are you certain you've gone over every possible means of escape?"

He nodded, "I searched them all, Ray. Believe me I wouldn't say this if there was another way."

Raylan nodded and fell into an uneasy silence. She began to pace around the room, her hands nervously massaging the back of her still bruised neck.

This couldn't be happening. She was so sure they would have never found them here, so sure that this time they wouldn't have to run, that they could form roots again. Lord, she had planned so carefully, and in one instant all that hard work had been shattered. She did not doubt Ethan's words, nor his accuracy. He had never failed her before; they had always been just where he said they were, but lord how she wished he was wrong. What would they do now? Where would they go, now that they were caged in?

Ethan watched her, curiously. He read her body language, then looked at her neck. "No, you can't! You can't be considering that. Ray!" Ethan cried, feeling the panic rising in his voice, "You can't ask! He'll kill us both! Look what he's done already to you!"

Raylan once again whirled on him, "Quiet you fool! He might hear you!" She paused only to listen for an instant and then said softly, "There is no other choice Ethan. If you are right, and there is no place we can run... oh Renold please understand... there is no other option."

"No other option!" Ethan exploded, his voice cracking as tear began to build, "There has to be something else! He's already tried to kill you! So you want to go and gain the help of your murderer? Are you out of your mind?"

In desperation Raylan sprang forward, cupping her hand over his mouth to silence him. "Be quiet!" She hissed, "I would rather take the chance, do you understand me, Ethan? If we get caught, death is a certainty. We have a chance with him... I will make sure we have a chance. I promised you I would look after you, that I would not let us get caught as long as there was a breath in my body... I will not break that promise Renold...I wont."

Ethan shook his head, although he knew she was right. As crazy as the idea was, there was no other option. His eyes were brimming with tears, speaking his denial of this plan, but he knew her well enough to know she would do what she believed right. Ethan sighed, brushing away the tears to gaze clearly at her as he said pleadingly, "Just don't get yourself killed."

Despite the situation Raylan forced herself to smile, "I will do my best."

"Do better than your best Ray. Don't die," His voice was soft and serious carrying all the love they had ever shared with in its tone. His eyes held those memories.

Raylan nodded, but her eyes did not return the feelings. The times ahead were to be harsh; she could not risk loosing logical thought to longing emotions. Somewhere in the distance she heard the chime of a clock. It was five p.m. already; sunset would not be too long away. If she was going to do this she had to make arrangements during the day; entering his box at night was not a wise idea.

She looked to Ethan and said sternly, "I want you to leave the Opera House as soon as we are done talking. Go straight to your hotel, stay there until morning- do not leave your hotel before then. Tomorrow at noon come back to the Opera House. Hopefully I will have arrangements set up by then," Raylan paused then, taking a heavy swallow before continuing, "Ethan...if I do not make it back alive, I want you to leave the suitcases behind, and run. Go on foot as far as possible, avoid major highways and towns. You must promise me that you will not get caught. I promised I wouldn't let you die, and you wont, even if takes losing me. Now, do you understand everything I've told you?"

Ethan nodded. He knew that she wouldn't' take his pleadings, or his begging her. He would do as she told him, but not without leaving his heart behind. He didn't trust himself to answer.

Raylan watched him for only a moment, staring into the breathtaking blue eyes of his, sketching the gaze he was giving her into her memory. Then surprisingly she swept him into her arms, embracing him with all the warmth she could muster. She held him only for as long as she could restrain tears, and then she gently pushed him away, moving swiftly to exit the room and forcing herself not to look back.

Ethan stood their numbly, and slightly confused by her sudden actions. Slowly it dawned on him what she was doing. _No_, he thought, _Please God! Don't let him hurt her. Forgive her, have pity on her lost soul. Please don't let her die, I need her._

Shortly after Raylan's leaving, Vits returned, in her hands a package wrapped bundle. She was muttering angrily to herself about something. She set the package on the table and looked at him, stopping her grumbling.

Ethan said weakly, "Hello."

Vits nodded, smiling to show that she wasn't angry at him, or Ray. "Hey," her tone was friendly and calm. She then looked at the package, "I got a new shirt, you can have yours back." Without waiting for him to respond, she pulled his off, over her head, and almost playfully tossed it at him. She then opened the wrapping to reveal a new shirt, almost exactly like the one that had been ruined, which she swiftly pulled on.

Ethan nodded his thank you. He was in no mood to play. Wrapping the shirt up into a semi-ball, he then tucked it under his arm and began to make his way for the door. "I have to return to the hotel," He said solemnly as an explanation.

Vits caught on to his somber mood, and nodded. "You know the way?" She doubled checked the fact, not for an excuse to walk with him, merely making sure he knew how to get there.

He nodded, slowly and full of dread. "Yes," He murmured, then muttering a small goodbye he left to wait in his lowly inn for morning.

Shortly after the Patron came bustling in, Vits giving him dreadful glare as he entered the room. The Patron was extremely eager, "Ah, Chalondra darling-"

He stopped as he watched Vits's hand disappear behind her back, and then exclaim, "Damn it! The bastard took my knives!"

He looked startled, "What?"

"The Phantom took my knives,"

The Patron gave her a look of doubt, "You must have miss placed them. I was saying that your dear mother is expected to arrive in an hour. Just in time for supper!"

Vits glared at him again. "My mother is not dear, nor am I darling," She growled. The Patron sighed as one would when trying to explain something to a child.

"We are very excited at your mother's return. I expect you present," His tone turned into a command. Vits growled, but surprisingly he held his ground until something else drew his attention, and then he left.

Raylan returned to Vits shop seconds later, a stern request in her voice as she asked, "Vits, may I borrow a sheet of paper, quill, and ink please?"

Vits, startled to see Ray there, nodded "Yes," She gestured to the table where such things were kept-her shop was extremely orderly, "They're all over there. Take what you need."

Raylan said a swift thank you before shuffling over to the table. She found everything she needed rather quickly and gathered them into her arms before rapidly returning to the door. She stopped only to say a quick, and oddly meaningful goodbye, and then exited the room as abruptly as she had entered.

Vits watched her, extremely confused. The past few appearances of her two American friends had been odd, extremely odd. Then however she got the order from another stagehand that the stage was to be cleaned and thus the set had to be moved, which occupied Vits's mind sufficiently enough for the rest of the hour.

Once leaving Vits shop, Raylan bolted swiftly across the stage, avoiding peoples questioning eyes as she went. She practically jumped from the stage to the aisles below, landing with a graceful thud before taking off down the aisle towards the box entrances. At her speed it had not been long until she came upon box five, her steps only slowing once she had entered the dark and lonely room. She took little time to overlook the room, entirely certain that the Phantom would not be here during the day. Raylan made her way over to the far end of the box, to the seat that she knew to be his.

Once there she placed the paper and ink bottle upon the cushion of the chair and opened it, dipping the tip of the quill into the oily black liquid and pressing it gently to the paper. Swiftly, she scribbled a short but meaningful message. In swift, messy strokes it read:

_Forgive me, but I need your help. Meet me upon the roof after sunset. My purpose for doing this will be explained after you arrive. I will be waiting for you_.

Raylan then quickly gathered the quill and ink bottle, abandoning the room as quickly as she could manage, leaving the note for only the ghost to find.

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Night had fallen and Raylan had kept her word. She sat seated at the foot of Apollo, cross legged and staring longingly at the Parisian lights as its night dwellers came out to play. Her hair was down, curling wildly about her shoulders to hide the bruises planted upon her tender neck. In her lap her thumbs danced around each other nervously, all fear absent from her image with the exception of her twiddling thumbs.

The Phantom of the Opera made her wait, to show his irritation at her forcing him to cancel his previous plans for the evening. A good solid ten minutes slowly ticked by as the ghost dealt out the appropriate punishment. He slipped out of his hidden trap door behind one of the statues of the winged horses when he had finally decided to make an appearance. In silent, graceful steps he crept behind the statue of Apollo, holding onto the God's lyre.

The Phantom's voice rang harsh as he spoke, "So you entered my box. I should kill you for that."

Raylan shockingly didn't jump with fright. Her voice was an odd calm as she strangely agreed, "You have every right to."

He slid, seemingly on air into view. "Tell my why I shouldn't," His eyes were as cold as the frosty winter air, his voice even colder.

She fearlessly looked up to him, her voice strong but respectful as she asked, "Would you like the truth out of me? The real truth, I mean. Everything I have to hide, would you like to know what it is?"

"I deserve to know," He said simply, crossing his strong arms over his firm chest.

She refrained from bluntly telling him he didn't, and gently tried to explain. Her words were for the first time completely without false when she spoke from that time on.

"I don't care if I die," She said honestly, "For what I have done, I deserve death, but he doesn't, and that's all that matters now. I promised him, told him I wouldn't let him die, wouldn't get us caught, but we can't run this time. We're trapped here, and you are the only one who can help us. You can make us disappear from the world, you have the ability to hide us. That's why I needed to talk to you, you see. That's why I am willing to tell you my secrets...because I need you to share yours."

The Phantom mulled her words over, thinking them through in his head. He decided to continue to prod her, "And why should I do this?"

She gave a small shrug, "I'll tell you anything you want to know...and if you accept to keep us safe...I'll do anything you ask, without fighting...I'll do anything."

_Anything? _He looked at her questioningly, his words almost sound conceited as he asked, "That's all?"

Raylan tilted her head to one side, "Would you like anything else Monsieur?" Her tone was a mixture of curiosity and sarcasm.

He sighed as if finding her to be incompetent, and then explained, "The mere answer to whatever questions I have, nor your willingness to do what I ask is not enough. There is no pain involved, no true price. While, I will be forced to give you part of my house, and rearrange my schedule to accommodate you."

She nodded, surprisingly understanding his reasoning. "Money?" She looked for the first time directly at his face, "I can offer you money enough to sustain you for the rest of your life, if that is what you require."

He shook his head, "No, it has no value to you. I require something of great worth, to you and you alone."

She shrugged, "Only two things matter to me in my life- my past, and Ethan. I do not know what else to offer you. I offer you my past, my future, my mind, my memories...what else would you want? My soul? Perhaps my body? Take your pick."

Again the Phantom thought her words over, and shook his head. He needed something more. "I will decide upon your payment later," He decided, "However, I still have not accepted your request. I will need time."

Suddenly she looked terrified, "How much time? Please understand sir, time is against us."

He paused for a moment, then thought over what he had heard within the shop earlier today. "I think one o'clock tomorrow, I shall have your answer," He decided firmly.

She nodded, accepting. Still her tone held confusion as she asked, "Wouldn't you even want to know why I need your help, before you make the decision I mean? I doubt if you wish to hear the whole story tonight...but do you truly want to make the decision, without knowing why we are running?"

He nodded, giving a half smile to the girl guessing his wishes, "Yes, that was my next question."

She nodded, a small laugh escaping her lips. Her eyes drew away from him as she took in a deep breath, drawing up her strength. Raylan's gaze only returned to him when she was ready, saying softly, "I know this may seem like nothing to you, because of the past you supposedly have lead, but in my opinion it's far from good. You see...in America, and yes I really am from America... in America," She paused and took a deep swallow, "I...I am wanted...for _armed robbery _... and the _murder_ of thirteen individuals."

For a moment there was silence, the Phantom slightly stunned. This he had not expected. Again this girl was puzzling him. He arched an eyebrow,"You want me to aid in the hiding of two felons?"

Releasing a sigh of relief, she gave him a half smile and said through nibbling on her lip, "Yes." She had finally said the truth, the bare minimal of the truth, but still the truth. Inside she dreaded the day when she would have to explain everything, and the real happening with Arron, but she had time before that. She had time and that was a comfort, no matter how little of it she had.

The Phantom paused, pondering. "I shall have to think upon it," He finally said, "Word will be sent to you upon reaching my decision." With that, he disappeared within the twirl of his midnight cloak.

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**Hope that was a bit of a surprise. More to come and more to explain. Please leave a review. Ciao for now!**

**-Olivia N.**


	15. Goodbyes

**BAH! Finally! I have finished the next chapter. Lord, that took longer than I had expected. Thank God it is done though, now I may breathe. **

**A Few Thanks**

**Eriksfirstlove- I truly don't mean to be evil...it just kind of happens. Sorry about the cliff hanger though, please forgive me. And I completely understand where you are coming from about the whole having to prove yourself the whole time too. It's a real annoyance. Yea, but you may thank our lovely Sumner for the marvelous work she has done as Vits.**

**Mademoiselle Phantom- If I could, I would hug you. I'm am absolutely serious when I say I have missed your comments, and I was overly thrilled to find you left a review. Thanks for thinking the story's becoming amazing- that was a boost of confidence. I absolutely adore your story 'Cold Unfeeling Light' and on that note I think you should update again so that we fans may marvel in your awesomeness. **

**shimmeringtears- You are without a doubt my favorite reviewer on the planet! I'm glad that you are enjoying the story, and remaining incredibly faithful to it. Also, you make an excellent point that all the readers should follow- I would appreciate a few more reviews every now and then (not that I don't appreciate what we get because I am always flattered by what you all say), but a few more couldn't hurt, right? -wink- -wink- -nudge- nudge- Ha, just playing. It would be very nice to have more, but I am completely honored by what we already receive. But still, thanks so much for even suggesting it. You are awesome!**

**surf with music- Thank you for understanding the tiring job of band camp. Don't get me wrong, I love marching band, but band camp I could live without. About the Raylan becoming Erik's slut and all that, don't worry. Likelihood is Erik will not be 'getting it on' in this story- nice, clean romance is the limit... I think. No worries though, Ray is not going to become his whore and Erik will not be turning into a pimp any time soon... as much as that would be an interesting sight to see.**

**Juilette Delphe- SUMNER! Are you home? Come back! I MISS YOU! **

**Alright, and now that I am done with that. Let the show begin!**

**-Olivia N.**

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That very evening the Opera Populaire eagerly awaited the arrival of the world renowned opera star, Malorea Chalondra. They stood, crammed into the foyer, each one waiting with eyes glued to the entrance and with baited breath. The ballerinas crowded along the railing of the balcony, each struggling to get a better view. Carlotta, and all of her attendants, stood along the stairs, with Jacque, the male lead, and his entourage. The Patron and the Managers stood enthusiastically at the foot of the stairs, talking excitedly amongst themselves. Only Vits was sullen about the whole affair, forced to stand squeezed, next to Carlotta, who was sneering upon her. Naturally, Vits returned the look with her own death glare.

At last, the moment had arrived, at half past six. The sounds of carriage wheels echoed through the halls, as they fell silent, everyone holding their breath, waiting for her. The high pitched voice of a woman angrily complaining about this and that, to a man, who answered her in noncommittal grunts proved that she had indeed arrived.

The grand doors of the Opera Populaire opened admitting a tall woman extravagantly dressed in a bright pink dress of the utmost latest Parisian fashion, and upon her arm was a gallant gentleman in the same manner. Malorea Chalondra descended from a long line of nobility, several over her ancestors were royalty, and she held that same bearing. Her harsh blue eyes scanned the room, from the eager ballet girls just starting their careers, to the Prima Donna of several seasons who practically owned the place. Then to Patron, this man who introduced himself as Claude Burke from a family of great withstand, to the managers and owners-they were the new rich, and thus exercising their great power.

((Authoress Note: Yes, we decided to name the Patron after all. Go figure- fifteen chapters in and now he has a name.))

Overall, she was disappointed with her arrival. Within any other Opera House she would have had a large fan fair or a large ball thrown in her honor that night. But, alas, the world renowned Opera Populaire was trying to make its rebound after the disaster two years ago. She would have to settle for this weak greeting.

Her eyes at last settled upon the person who was most out of place. She nearly gasped at the nerve; they had to place _her_ there. There she stood, her one major mistake, in all her glory glaring back at her mother. The two exchanged harsh looks, each daring the other to break away first. However, one of the managers interrupted with a polite cough. Malorea snapped her eyes to the man, and then asked in an imperial voice, "What no red carpet?"

The Patron laughed weakly, as if the singer had been joking. She had not. Claude Burke bowed deeply sweeping his hat off his head, and flourishing his cloak.

"Madame Chalondra, what a pleasure to see that you have arrived safely to the Opera Populaire," He stood up, and gestured behind him to the Managers, "These are our lovely and ever so kind, Managers: Monsieur Aloin and Monsieur Senapus."

Carlotta strode forward, ever eager to impress her better, having the nerve to even shove the Managers aside to make an appearance before Madame Chalondra.

"Our leading Soprano: Carlotta," Monsieur Burke introduced. Carlotta curtsied deeply and dramatically, with a gracious smile.

Then the moment came. The Patron turned at last, with an ever handsome smile. His hand gracefully extended towards Vits, "And of course, your daughter Chalondra Vitusia. Always a joy to have under our roof. You will be proud to know that she will be singing beside you during our production of _Romeo and Juliet_ as the ever valiant Romeo."

The ballerinas gasped in awe; none would ever have guessed Vits's parentage. Vits, of course, had not been told of this latest news, that she would be singing. She growled deeply at the Patron, words would fly later. Vits did not want to perform on stage, she never liked it, especially while her mother was there.

Malorea nearly had the same reaction as her daughter, except she had the better breeding to not give off animal noises of displeasure, instead she deeply frowned, wondering how to get out of this predicament, without looking as if she were backing out. She and the Patron would talk later.

Claude Burke swallowed; this wasn't the reaction he had hoped for. He had foreseen a joyous reunion with mother and daughter rushing to embrace each other. However, mother and daughter were a study of opposites, where Malorea was well mannered, properly educated, and gentle; Vits was rude, calloused, and rough. Mother would hold her tongue, and graciously accept what society dealt, daughter would give vicious tongue lashings, and fight society's attempt to civilize her to death. While Vits was her father's daughter to the teeth, and Malorea had absolutely no desire to come within contact with her blood child, there was one similarity, but few bothered to look; they held the same bearing.

The bearing of descending from a line of kings, each could rule imperviously, and would-given the chance. Vits ruled the under world of the Opera House, her domain was vast though she held little true power.

Malorea was queen of the upper realm; the dancers, singers, managers, and even the audience; wherever she sang they would come. The two fought, butting heads by nature. Malorea had no wish to even admit her daughter's existence, and Vits had the same feelings for her mother, but their jobs forced them too. And thus epic battles would rise. However, at the moment there was an uneasy peace between them, the calm before the war.

The Managers gently escorted Madame Chalondra into their office to discuss certain options, and forms of payment. When she had gone the audience began to thin out, and Vits was the first to bolt. She rushed to her apartment, and slammed the door as hard as she possibly could, which nearly knocked the door off its hinges. Her hands were shaking as the fury built, tears burning her eyes, not with sadness but with the utmost hate. No one looked at her the way Malorea always did, with so much distaste, and with so little compassion. Not even the Patron was cruel enough to look at her that way.

Vits knew what her mothers had been thinking then, the woman going over in her head of how big of a mistake her daughter was, of how much she had never wanted her. She never did, even when Vits was a child in desperate need of the support of a mother, she never wanted her. Vits had only wanted to be loved. Was that so much to ask? She had only wanted to be loved!

"I hate that bitch!" She shouted in rage, the colorful side of her vocabulary beginning to be exercised as Vits stormed about the kitchen.

With her usual bad timing, Raylan walked in just as Vits language started diving into the more dangerous words and although she had entered in a haze she did indeed catch her companions attitude. "What's wrong?" Raylan asked, shaking herself from her fogged state.

Vits stopped and glared harshly at Raylan, "You didn't hear? _She's_ here."

"Oh," Raylan shut her eyes and groaned, hinting that she had completely forgotten, "You're mother, you mean. I'm sorry Vits."

Vits suddenly lashed out, slamming the chair against the table hard, making Raylan jump with surprise. However, the furniture was well made and merely shuddered rather than shattering. Vits hissed, she had somewhat wished it had broke. "Yes," She growled viciously, "And now, I've been told I'm going to accompany her on stage as Romeo after Midsummer Night's dream. Isn't that fantastic!" Her words hissed angrily, displaying her every frustration through her tone.

Raylan shuddered, but her words were strangely unsympathetic as she said, "That's horrible."

Vits glared harshly at her, catching her roommates tone. "You can take my place," She offered, her voice bitter and cold.

"No I can't," There was soft regret in Raylan's voice and she went to slump down on the couch with a deep sigh, leaning her head back on the head rest but still watching Vits. She finally comforted softly, "You're a fighter. You'll be fine."

Vits softened after Raylan spoke, catching the sadness that lingered beneath the comfort. She had to drive herself to speak gently as she asked, "What's wrong with you?"

Raylan looked to her, a small twinkle in her eyes from mounting tears. Lord, she did not want to say this, to break her friends heart. Goodbyes were always the hardest parts of friendships, and as much as Raylan had told herself to not get attached, there was no denying how she had grown fond of the odd ball. A sharp pain wrenched in her heart as she came to realize what she had to say. Her time with Vits would soon be over.

Raylan answered honestly, her voice shaking as she fought back tears, "I'm...I'm going to be leaving you Vits. Ethan and I...we have to go."

"You're leaving me?"

Raylan shut her eyes. She heard the quiver in Vits voice, the sharp and sudden pain that even her mothers presence could not even cause. "We have no choice," Raylan sighed, keeping her eyes closed to fight back tears. She knew that one look into Vits glossy green orbs and she would fall apart.

Vits watched, confused for only a moment before remembering Ethan's reaction to her assumption. "It's because the cops found you," She stated it in a matter of fact way.

Raylan bolted upright. Her voice swiftly came out at a shrill as she stuttered, "H...how did you? How d...did you?"

"It wasn't that hard to see your stories didn't exactly match up," Vits said, relaxing now that her theory could be confirmed, "Besides, you and Ethan have too different of facial structures to be related- you two look nothing alike, with the exception of a Southern tan. A number of other things gave it away. But I'm certain nobody else noticed. I just figured it out because I spent time with both of you."

Raylan nodded, understanding how Vits had caught on, but her tone remained slightly skeptical as she asked, "And what exactly is it you think you figured out?"

Vits sighed as if she were explaining something for the millionth time over, "You two are on the run from the law. And it had to be something big, otherwise they wouldn't be chasing you over here. Most likely something involving a lot of money."

Raylan smirked. How clever Vits was, how dangerously clever. Raylan's voice came out cautious and defensive as she began to question, "Are you going to tell? You going to give us away? Give us to those damned police, just like Melanie. Don't even think about it; I wouldn't let you, do you hear me? For god sakes, I'll do whatever I must to keep Ethan safe."

Vits let Ray rant for a moment, then scoffed, "Oh, shut up. If I wanted to give you away, I would have done so by now. How many times have I had the chance to drag you to them? Besides, why would I give you away?"

"Reward," Ray said simply, "There is a lot of money on our heads, especially mine."

Vits arched an eyebrow, leaning forward to say lightly as if it were a secret, "You've seen me dance. If I wanted money, why aren't I beating the stuffing out of Carlotta on the stage? Why am I still here? Working for practically nothing? I get paid less than you, remember?"

"I don't trust," Raylan replied, her voice cold as snow, "Life has taught me not to. I have run into people like you before, grown weak to them, only to find out they had a second motive- forgive me if I find it hard to believe."

Vits shrugged. "Believe what you want. I can't change your thinking," Her tone turned serious, "But remember this, Raylan, I saved your life once. Don't expect me to save your ass again, if you refuse to open your fucking eyes and see the truth." Her eyes were cold and harsh. She meant what she said, "I don't help fools."

Raylan growled. Again her caution had turned the moment sour. "Well, you wont have to put up with this 'fool' much longer," She hissed bitterly, "I'll be out of your life soon, and then you can continue on your miserable existence, alone."

Vits nodded, her tone was measured and unemotional, "Yes. I'm sure you'll leave. And what would you like me to do about it?"

Raylan laid down on the sofa, purposely turning her back to Vits, "It's none of your concern. Just keep your mouth shut and we will have no problems. We will be gone soon." Her voice quivered from threatening tears as she forced herself to utter what she knew wasn't true, "I'm sure you can't wait."

Vits growled. Her day was going from bad to worse. She stalked into her room, and slammed the canvas sail of a curtain shut, ending their conversation on that unpleasant note.

Both had forced themselves to sleep that night. Vits had sunk into a restless sleep, tossing and turning in her hammock. Her mind filled with the memories her mother always brought with her. One replayed itself, over and over. Back to when she was eight, when her father had just died.

It was left up to her to sow his hammock shut, so he could be sent to his watery grave. She remembered the feel of the canvas, the rough hemp she used as thread for her needle. Her eyes watched the body hoping for some form of life, something to change what had happened. To bring him back. She was nearly finished, her tear filled child eyes staring so wishfully at the only love she had known, gone from her life. His hands had been folded across his chest, and she was about to cover them, when suddenly his hand reached out for her. Vits had jumped back as a child, ever hopeful. She hadn't understood rigor mortis yet, but she had kept sowing, knowing that he was dead.

However, she had always wondered if he really had been. The hand moved, reaching out for his daughter. He had reached to her, and she had denied his touch. She had already begun to shut out attachment.

Vits bolted up right, panting, in her hammock. The sudden motion upset the balance necessary to keep the hammock still. Vits gracelessly fell out of her hammock. However she wasn't entirely awake, so she bounced around her room, and into the main room. She bumped into the table, as if searching for something, muttering to herself, "He's dead. He's not coming back. He's dead."

Vits finally found the door, and walked out, still in a half daze. The lights upon the stage awoke her. It was so predictable for her mind to seek the stage, her only way of expressing what truly lay within. She looked around the room, and started to stretch to dance. Glittering water caught her eye. The stage hands had tried to wash the stage, but had left large puddles of water. Vits cursed them under her breath, and looked towards the mop to correct the issue, but she decided against it, letting the fools get what they asked for-a warped stage.

She again looked out into the audience, then up to the ceiling, which had been repaired from the chandelier's crash, and repainted with cherubs. Her eyes searched with a look of absence. She was not looking at the ceiling, but more so beyond it, towards a world that no mortal eyes could see.

"She's here, father. She's come," Vits spoke into the night, pouring her heart out to the soul she prayed would hear her, even from so far a distant, "I can't take it. Honestly, I want to run so badly. But I can't. I can't abandon my men. They... they're putting me on stage, like I'm some prize because of her. Oh, Papa, what am I going to do? I hate going on stage. But I don't have a choice, do I?"

She sighed, looking down at one of the puddles and her reflection in it. Tears coursed down her face. "She's leaving me... no, not mother. My roommate... Raylan. I didn't think I could trust anyone after you Papa, but she... she wormed her way into my heart Dad. She's so much like you, stubborn as all hell, but brilliant," Vits smiled at the memories, "I know she cares, but she refuses to admit it." Vits paused, her voice had broke. It took so much strength to continue, "I can't face them alone, Papa, I just can't. I need your strength. I need your help." Then she sang. Her voice soared from it's deepest reaches to its highest bounds, from well below a baritone's range up to an alto's higher middling range. She sang with the same passion as her dance, with the same pain and anger, the same sadness and utter loneliness. She sang for the soul who she could no longer lean on, and for steadiness that she was soon to lose.

"Hear me, Papa,

You gotta be out there, Papa. Are you near me?

You gotta be somewhere,

Can you hear me? Wherever you are, I'm waiting for your light,

Illuminate this cold and lonely night,

Stirring in my soul,

A light shining through,

But I won't see your face,

Light up again,

Are you listening?

I can't get through,

'Cause there are these nights,

when I sing myself to sleep,

I've been trying to reach you,

I don't know what to do,

and I'm hoping in my dreams that you're wherever I am,

And you'll be there until the end.

I remember everything

you taught me,

I'm crying' out, please,

Find me, I'm lost,

I fall, but I try,

I need someone to understand,

I'm lost in my thoughts of

A tragedy, a fragile soul

Caught in the hands of fate,

I've waited so long,

Wishing I was in your arms,

lying right there beside you.

It just isn't right,

I'm searching for a miracle,

I'm trying to heal,

There's more damage here than

my soul can take,

Nothing's making any sense,

All of the things that I want to say just aren't coming out right,

I don't know where to go from here.

You were the light that was leading me,

The stars guided you home,

Will they guide me?

You were the strength,

that kept me walking.

You were my hope,

You calmed the storms.

You gave me rest,

You held me in your hands,

And you wouldn't let me fall.

But now I'm running,

And I'm not sure where to go,

I've lost something I can't replace,

And I can't fix it alone.

So tears fall, and

I can't hold them back.

I can't survive,

Will you help me survive?

Who will help me survive?"

The tears fell freely as Vits stood there, letting her soul cry, as she never had. She had never let herself truly cry for her father's death. The tears she had shed upon his death day, had been because she couldn't stand to be alone, and she didn't want to give up his memory. But now, she saw she had no choice. She had to let go, to survive, to have the strength to stand up against the mother who didn't love her. And never would.

Tears streamed down his face, sliding behind the mask that hid his emotions, both physical and mental. He could taste their salt upon his lips. He heard the pain in her voice, and felt the sadness as it seared through his heart, ripping the old wound anew. He remembered her tearful good-bye. He remembered Christine's leaving, and the hole she had left behind where his heart had once been.

He knew the pain, the hurt, the sorrow, that Vits sang about. They were the same, the same broken, alone figures, revealing only their true feelings within the shield of the dark. He wanted to hold the eight year old child that stood upon the stage, struggling against a world that she could not win. Yet she would die fighting, because she knew no different. He could not take away the one person Vits could lean upon, the one person she had trusted. No, he would help them.

He would hide them, he decided then as he watched the broken woman crawl from the stage. His heart gave a small pain as he watched her go. Sadly, he had wished that he was the one Vits sang about, the one she trusted, the one she needed to lean on. There had been a time, and possibly still was a time when he had wanted so much to be her companion, her trusted friend. He could have been there for her, could have been her strength, for he would never leave her, he would never leave the Opera Populaire. She had not wanted him as a friend though, she thought him a monster, like everyone else. No, he would never be her friend. No, he would stay with the memories, alone in his shadows. Alone... forever alone.

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That morning Raylan was not herself, or the self that the people of the Opera House had come to believe she was. She was jumpy and unfocused, not the usual cool and sweet girl that others had grown accustom to. Her work was just as similar, the amateur seamstress practically flinging needles every which way on accident. All day she seemed on edge, her face beading with sweat and her eyes bolting about with terror at the slightest sound. Of course, no one questioned her or took pity on the shaky Southerner. The most her fellow seamstresses did was mercilessly watch her, giggling and laughing behind her back.

She hardly noticed their crude laughter, which came as somewhat of an annoyance to them. Raylan was completely absent it seemed, so absent that she had not noticed when the others had left for lunch, and she remained in the costume department, alone and dazed.

A sharp knock on the door awoke the room from its usual humdrum. The knock was brisk and impatient.

Raylan's panicked nerves caught the noise and shakily she rose, walking to the door and cautiously opening it.

Behind the door stood Madame Giry, her face tight with determination. "Ah, good it's you," She said briskly, and then strongly commanded, "Come." She turned around, and started walking away, not even pausing to see if the American followed.

Raylan for a moment was confused, but she had learned not to doubt Madame Giry's intentions and willingly trailed after her.

As Raylan has suspected, Madame Giry led her up to box five, and stepped in, carefully remaining hidden behind the curtain, and gesturing for Raylan to do so.

Raylan obeyed, doing just as Madame Giry did, to the exact move.

"Here is the Phantom's response, and instructions. I strongly suggest that you read it here. And destroy it here, lest it fall into the wrong hands," With that she reached within the folds of her dress and emerged with a box of matches, handing them to Raylan, along with the crisp envelope. She turned to leave then, pausing at the door only to say swiftly before exiting, "Goodbye my dear."

Raylan waited till Madame Giry had gone to read the Phantom's note. A few times she turned it over in her hands, examining her name written quickly and messy on the front and the odd wax seal of a skull on the back. Soon she took a seat in one of the box chairs, taking a deep, wishful breath before reading.

The note was written in the same swift hand writing, briskly saying:

_Dear Mademoiselle Willoughby,_

_I have decided to accept your proposal. If you still plan to continue on with this idea, be prepared to leave at sundown. Seeing as I have prior arrangements to attend to, I have arranged for a guide to meet you in the Chapel. They will lead you as far as needed, and then you must continue your journey to my home on your own. Do not fret, I will be there to meet you._

_Your Most Humble and Obedient Servant,_

_O.G._

Raylan sighed with relief, a small smile gracing across her lips. She took the note to her chest, cradling it as if it were the most precious gift she had ever received, but quickly remembered that the precious note was to be destroyed. Sadly she rose, walking to the farthest corner and placing the note upon the ground. Striking a match, she set one of the frail ends of the note into flames, then allowed the rest to catch fire as she watched it burn. She did not stomp it out until the note was black with ash, ruined, and then she put the fire out, swiftly hiding the ashes and leaving the box.

Raylan was not surprised when she came upon the stage that Ethan was there, silently awaiting her as she had requested. There were rings under his eyes; she knew he hadn't slept. They saw each other instantly and Raylan made her slow walk over.

He nodded and looked anxious, fiddling with his cowboy hat.

Raylan returned the nod, her eyes focusing in on him. In a soft voice she said, "Prepare your things. Meet me here as soon as you are done- leave no traces of where you might be going. We depart at sundown."

Again he nodded. Silent tears were in his eye, but he did not say a thing. Ethan just turned around, put on his hat, and walked out of the building. From behind, half hidden within the sets, Vits watched him leave with only a slight pause before returning to work.

As Raylan watched him go her ears caught the chiming of the three o'clock bell; it would not be long until she descended to their safety...his hell. Raylan spun around, about to take off for the apartment, when her eyes caught sight of Vits. Her gaze was solemn, weighing heavily upon the friend she knew she was destined to lose. She had hoped to catch Vits's eye, but her companion was working diligently and never looked her way. After a deep sigh Raylan headed for the apartment to begin packing.

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The time passed slowly, agonizing. Vits became snappier at the end, obviously restless and irritated. She finally gave up on the day, about half an hour before the sun would sink below the horizon. When she entered the apartment, she wasn't surprised to find Raylan's bags packed.

Raylan looked up from the couch. She had been folding a few sheets of paper and casually slipped them into an ordinary envelope as she addressed Vits, saying gently, "I'm glad you're here."

Vits nodded. "Farewells are the hardest," She admitted softly, her tone grim.

"Indeed, they are," Raylan agreed grimly. She allowed silence to linger between them as she sealed the letter, rising with a sigh as she made her way around the room. Her eyes gazed longingly, sorrowfully over the apartment. She would miss this place, this warmth and belonging, but all good things always came to an end.

Again sighing she slowly approached Vits, and with a shaky hand offered her the envelope. She said softly, "You deserve to know why we are leaving you- the full story. This is for you, it will explain everything, but I have two strict orders. Do not read it until I am gone, and destroy it immediately after you have finished reading it. I... I'm sorry that this is the only way I could open up to you."

Vits nodded, "You made the move. That's what counts."

Raylan frowned, "I should have made it sooner...when we had the chance to become great friends." Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she fought them as usual. She was leaving the only kindness she had known in years, the only friend she had ever even been close to having. Suddenly, without any warning she pulled Vits into an embrace, holding her close for long enough to make a point and then releasing her. She quickly then gathered her bags and bolted out the door, escaping before her tears would show.

Vits stood there for a moment shocked. She glanced down at the letter, her companions confession, then at the clock. She didn't have time to read it. Sighing regretfully, Vits quickly set the letter on the table and then left the room, closing the door behind her.

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Raylan had met Ethan on the stage, her two suitcases in hand and his two suitcases tucked securely under his arms. They said nothing, just gazed at one another for a second, before he followed Raylan through the winding halls that had become her home, leading the way to the Chapel she had visited only once before.

Vits stood in the Chapel, watching the sun's dying light fade through the stained glass. She knew why she was here, to escort two individuals to the Phantom's lair. He had chosen her, chosen her to take them for whatever mysterious or twisted reasons he had. She had received a letter from him early that morning, in his usual mysterious manner, asking her to lead his guests to his boat on the underground lake. Perhaps he had chosen her because she was one of the rare few who knew how to find his lair.

She had actually found his home when she first arrived, by accident., discovering the hidden passage within the Chapel wall. She had taken the boat, paddling swiftly when she had heard the slightest whispers in the waters, tales of sirens returning to her mind from what her crew had once told her. When she had arrived, he hadn't been there at the time, but of course he knew about it, and she had been rightfully punished. Still, she had never forgotten the way.

Doubt filled her mind as she watched the dwindling light, contemplation on if what she was doing was right. Vits knew what lay beneath. She knew of the heaven and hell he had created, the world he had fashioned in honor of music and darkness. A world both beautiful and deadly, but it was not a world that she wished to submit her friends to. The Phantom's realm, she knew, would be far more than they had bargained for, and Vits feared that submitting them to it would doom them to a fate much worse than what the law would enforce. She would have to stifle her fear though. She never crossed the Phantom's demands, knowing full well the consequences if she did.

"Vit's?" Her name was partial question and fear as Raylan spoke it, the slap of her bags dropping from her hands stirring Vits from her thoughts. She spun about, staring her two comrades bravely in the face. Raylan's mouth was gaping, and she was struggling to say something and failing miserably. Ethan said nothing, just stood there with his mouth lolling open.

Vits simply nodded, "Yes, I am the guide." Then without thought she suggested, "If you all need to leave, if he hurts you, I can get you out of here safely. Somehow, I will find a way. However, it won't be easy. I don't know what he's asking. I don't know what you promised. But I'd be careful."

Raylan nodded, her voice finally emerging bravely as she said, "I am prepared for my consequences...come, we should go- I don't wish to displease him so soon."

Vits nodded and rose, ignoring the dread that weighed heavily on her chest, "Ready?"

Both of them answered softly and full of uncertainty, "Yes."

Without wasting another minute, Vits pushed aside a hidden door, and ushered them in before closing it herself. The hall way was dark after she closed the door, but she lit a match that she had taken from someplace concealed in her clothing. Still, the small light was nothing compared to the immense darkness that surrounded them. Vits cautioned gently before traveling, "I'm going to warn you, there are rats. But if you scream, I'm under instruction to abandon you."

Raylan softly chuckled, "Rats are the least of my fears."

"Just a fair warning," Vits muttered as she lead the way through a winding and twisted passageway, saying as little as possible, making as little noise as her feet could.

Ethan trailed close behind. His steps were louder- never having learned to walk as silently as the girls had- but he tried his best to walk lightly. Eventually he resulted to tip toeing.

Behind them lay ever vast darkness, and before them, but Vits surely led the way, pausing occasionally at a few intersections. She knew the way, but even she doubted herself sometimes. She knew what lay at the end, if they took a wrong direction-death. After a long walk Vits came to halt before a greenish-blue lake, its waters murky and threatening from lack of light and with a hint of gloomy mist.

As arranged, a wooden boat awaited them upon the black shores. Vits thought momentarily about the Greek legend of souls that entered the Underworld, the realm of Hades. It is said there was a single ferry run by the boatman Charon to take the souls across the river Styx, into Hell. Funny, this scene reminded her almost entirely of that myth. Perhaps the Phantom truly was the Devil.

Vits sighed, ignoring these thoughts and spinning about to face her companions, "This is how far I go"

Ethan took to putting his and Raylan's things in the boat as Raylan spoke to Vits. "Read the note when you return. It will explain everything," She said gently, placing a gentle hand on Vits shoulder. Again tears danced in Raylan's eyes, and again she fought them back, remaining strong as she exchanged her last words, "Thank you...for everything Vits."

Vits nodded, her too remaining strong for their sakes, "Don't forget my offer. I don't think I'll be staying here much longer. But it stands as long as I'm here." With out another word she turned and walked down the passageway, her pace slow and measured, as if she didn't want to let them go. She didn't, but she had to force herself to do this, no matter how much it hurt.

With a sigh Raylan entered the boat, but Ethan paused to call after Vits. "Vits," He cried, the desperation in his voice. Would he truly never see her again? Never see her smile again? Never again feel her caress? His mind cried in fear, and he stuttered to say what he knew he felt, but knew he shouldn't admit, " ...I...I lo...thank you."

With his words, Vits paused. She knew what he meant, they all did. Her shoulders slumped as she let out a silent sob. Then she pushed herself foreword, and around a corner and on through the winding passageways. Out of view her emotions came crashing down, her world taking its final plunge. Damn him for saying that, knowing they could never be. Damn Raylan for getting close to her. Damn herself for letting herself get attached, for feeling connected. Damn them both for causing the pain she would feel of never seeing them again.

Ethan's head lowered, but he fought back the tears that swelled, forcing himself to be strong. He was thankful though that Raylan did not send him a scorning look when he entered the boat, but instead watched him with complete sorrow, hoping for him to forgive her for what she was making him do. In her eyes she begged for his forgiveness, and his courage. They both knew the dangers of the world they were about to enter, a whole new kind of Hell. They were to enter a cell, a mans demented and shadowed world, and yet their only means of survival. So with a final sigh of dread, Ethan took up the rod to guide the boat, and pushed it off the edge, beginning their journey down the river Styx, into the realm of Hades.

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**Thanks everyone! Hope you enjoyed. Erik's lair scene, soon to come. Answer this for me, do the fans prefer Erik's lair to be more Leroux or Webber style, or both? And should we keep the whole Erik sleeping in a coffin thing like from Leroux's? And what else would you all like to see in his lair? Allowing you all to take part in the decision. Thanks everyone! Please review, and ciao for now!**

**-Olivia N. **


	16. His Domain

**This is what happens when you are in your last year of high school and involved in an extremely demanding after school activity- you don't write nearly as much as you would have hoped. How long has it been since my last post? Like a week? I'm sorry everyone, seriously- been busy and just couldn't find the time. Sorry I kept yall waiting! Please forgive me! I am actually making a post though...be proud of me!**

**A Few Thanks**

**shimmeringtears- As always, so happy that you liked it, and extremely sorry for keeping you waiting. About the pain of getting up so early, I know how you feel. So my school starts at 7 a.m. so I am getting up at 5 in the freaking morning, and then school goes to about 2:30 and then I have practice everyday after school until about 6 or 7. Ugh, least to say I am dead by the end of the day. Which is why I have taken so long to update- so yea, I feel you pain.**

**surf with music- Ugh, band camp, it just hurts to think about. Thanks for the support though, and yea I am happy that she wont be becoming Erik's slut too... I just can't see her or him for that matter enjoying that. Hey, what do you play? In band I mean... or did play?**

**Juilette Delphe- Woot! You are back! High five my crazy friend! And yes, very sad scene, but don't use all those tissues... you and I both know that later you'll be needing them. And about he coffin thing...you lose. Sorry, but everyone else wants it...so we have to keep it. Ha! You must write him in coffin! By the way, everyone besides Sumner, Sumner is the one who writes our lovely Phantom so you can thank her for the genius of him.**

**Dernhelm-  Actually, the song is a creation of Sumner's with a few parts inspired by other various songs. So you want me to destroy the swan bed? Pent up anger towards it, huh? Just kidding. But yea, probably wont have it- have yet to decide- but yes the coffin is staying, but no they will not be sleeping on the cold, damp floor. Sorry... I know, bummer right:)**

**Alright everyone, thank so much for the comments. I will try to have the next post up sooner. Ciao for now,**

**-Olivia N.**

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The sweetest sounds graced over the water, wafting towards the pair in the boat, the stone tunnels closing in on them, echoing the music's melody. An organ's euphonic notes called them closer, begging them to follow. Music entrapped them, bringing them father down, away from the light, and into the darkness. Yet the melodies were so silvery that it reminded the wary travelers that heaven did reside in Hell.

As they drew closer the tune changed, slowly, a spider ensnaring its prey, slowly wrapping it up within its glistening web of beautiful music. The harmony became controlling, the gentle guidance becoming a deep mastery, forcing them to follow. Still the lyrical music held its sweet, soft compelling, underlying the desire, the need to become his.

They heard the music, persuading them, seducing them to grow closer. Raylan felt the shift in the boat as Ethan's rows became more rapid, more determined, and she edged him on with looks of desperation. Closer, they had to get closer to the music that was calling them, to grasp the sultry sound in their yearning arms, to be consumed by this passion that filled their senses.

They pressed forward, so impatient and eager. Ethan's strokes had become so rapid that he was almost reckless, several times hitting the side of the boat instead of the water. Raylan didn't notice though, didn't even think to correct him on his movements. She just remained poised, her eyes peering through the tunnel ahead, searching for the source of this luscious noise.

Candles flickered and wavered all around, creating a dazzling lightshow of shadows and light. The contrast of heaven and hell. The shore rose before them, a gentle slope next to a sheer cliff, ten feet to the water's surface. Golden candle auras caught and reflected the light with a soft golden glow, reminding the travelers of an early morning sunrise where the sun had just peeked over the horizon. The pipe organ rose in the view, dark maestro at the foot of its glittering glory. Music enchantingly danced over sheets, his black gloved hands flitting gracefully over the keys. A black figure sat, blending in with the sunrise, the darkness to the light. His body moved slightly as his fingers flew over the keys, bringing forth the compelling melody, drawing the captive to their captor.

Ethan brought the boat to bump lightly against the rocky shore, dropping the rod limply as he lifted his eyes to the shadowed angel that produced the magic they felt surging through them. Both remained absolutely still as if fearing the music to stop if they interrupted.

Alas, it did. The alluring music slowly dropped off, gracefully ending with an arpeggio to allow the magic to linger a bit longer. The spell wore off within moments, as he turned and faced them. Half of his face beautiful beyond compare, the other half hidden behind a black mask, where only the holes for his eye and mouth showed some of the horror with in.

His dazzling green eyes looked over the pair, critically. After a quite thorough inspection, his gaze settled lightly upon Raylan, the girl's wildly curling hair falling straight into her view with the slightest movement, so like Christine's. His long lost love, the one who had betrayed him! Would she be the same? So alike with her deep chestnut locks, that her hair alone could have been Christine, standing before him, pleading for her life. No, he would not turn her down. She would be useful to him, just as _she_ had. Down here in his Hell.

His gaze fell to the intruder, Raoul in another form, drawing her attention away from him-he who was important. Hatred burned in the dark heart of the Opera Ghost for Ethan, who stood before him. The one who did not belong and never would, he will be the first to go. The first to die, should he cross the Phantom of the Opera. Which, he was already doing by being there, by controlling Vits's heart. His pride and joy, his prodigy- after his beloved left to the traitor. She was the one who needed none of the pain the insolent boy was giving her, the one whom he wanted to love, needed to love, and be loved in return.

Raylan watched him, her eyes holding to the one who had created the beauty that took her very breathe away. She stared for what seemed for so long, absolute appeal and curiosity written all over her expressions, her gaze holding him as if he were an angel above mortals. This affect was momentary though, because of Ethan's incapability to keep his balance.

He stood, trying to keep his footwork and in result toppling clumsily over the side of the boat and into the shallow waters. Raylan's gaze instantly snapped from the Phantom to her now soaked companion, raising to her own feet and stepping gracefully on the shore. She then offered him a helping hand, chuckling lightly to herself and grinning towards Ethan's sulking expressions.

The Phantom glared at the clumsy fool, falling into _his _water. He watched her pull the stupid boy to his feet with a small smirk. _How easy it would be_, he thought smugly, _to be rid of such an incompetent fool, but she_, his eyes twitched towards Raylan, _she protects him. Why? _For the moment he ignored the thoughts, bowing gracefully to his guests, his arms open and inviting as he greeted, "Welcome."

Raylan turned, a slightly friendly gaze falling upon the Phantom once she had helped Ethan to his feet, saying with small laughs caused from her companions accident, "Thank you Monsieur. Glad you could have us."

He nodded, a king lording over his subjects. With a sweeping arm, her gestured to the immense cavern behind him, saying sternly, "Come, I shall show you to your rooms."

Instantly Raylan's smile dropped. She had undoubtedly remembered where she was, pulled from the illusion that Ethan's clumsiness had momentarily caused. She nodded, a gentle and solemn nod before returning to the boat. Raylan took her two bags into her hands, and like a gentlemen Ethan offered to carry them for her, but being the independent woman she was, she politely refused. Of all things, she was going to keep her dignity.

Ethan shrugged and gathered his own things, shortly coming to stand by Raylan's side as they waited before their host.

When his guests were ready the Phantom lead them through the maze of flaming candles, and through a short hallway like alcove. It was a brief walk before he came to a graceful halt. There stood a sturdy mahogany door not far from the great organ placed in the center of the cavern, waiting patiently within the confines of it's cold stone walls to be opened.

"Mademoiselle," His dark and silvery voice drew Raylan's attention, "Your chambers." He gestured grandly, royalty showing a visitor their room.

Raylan nodded a polite thank you and made her way towards the door. She paused right before the grand mahogany and turned to face them both. Her eyes danced back and forth between the two of them, and then she asked very politely, "And of Ethan? Might I inquire as to where he is staying?"

The Phantom's gaze slid to her, his tone becoming one of suppressed irritation as he hissed, "If you insist."

Raylan's response was hesitant, a result of catching the frustration in his voice, "It's just for curiosity's sake... I don't have to see just now...I can be patient." Ethan scoffed for a moment, knowing better than to believe the last statement of patients. Raylan shot him a vicious glare in result.

The Phantom nodded, "Very well." Once more he gestured commandingly to her door.

Although she usually felt inclined to deny any given command, Raylan did as she was instructed, sending Ethan a comforting smile before vanishing behind the mahogany door with a soft thud of closure.

The Phantom then very smoothly directed his eyes to Ethan, a vicious sneer creasing his lips. It was a hideous grin, the Ghost exercising his power over the helpless boy.

Surprisingly, this 'boy' remained the same masculine and stubborn figure as he had always appeared around others, except Raylan, and recently Vits. He had a cocky grin plastered on his face, not acknowledging the menacing appearance the Phantom was displaying just then.

"Hope you're keeping her comfortable," Ethan said in a knowing voice that was dripping with mock crudeness, "She's picky."

The Opera Ghost's glare increased. "Her quarters are more than suitable," He snapped harshly, and then turned on his heel, leading the way back towards the organ. There he paused to grab a candelabra, and briskly lead Ethan to the opposite side of his lair, and into the depths of his many hidden passageways.

"Separating us, huh?" Ethan continued with his sarcastic bantering as he followed the dark man, "What we being punished for?"

The Phantom thought cruelly, _for living_. However he responded, "She agreed to my terms. If you do not like them, I suggest you die trying to leave." His tone was frosty, a bitter winter's air.

Finally, after approximately five minutes, The Phantom abruptly stopped before another door, this time of rich ebony. The dark wood barely reflected any light, and could hardly be seen even with the candle's flickering light. "Your room," He gestured forcefully, demanding without words for the boy to enter it.

Ethan nodded thankfully and opened the door. He was half way in when he turned about to ask his final question, "Why, exactly, are you placing us so far apart?"

However, he asked the question to the darkness. The Phantom had disappeared, along with his light, leaving Ethan to stand bewildered within this hell's thick night. A darkness that blinded all others.

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Her door was closed, the way she had left it, Vits noted with satisfaction as she returned home. It didn't help though, this small satisfaction didn't ease even the least bit of pain. Her heart was breaking beneath her hardened exterior with every lowly step. Would small satisfactions ever help again? She doubted it.

She opened the door and walked inside, intent on going into her room, and relieving her pain in what ever means necessary. The letter lay forgotten in the back of her mind, something she wanted to push away, until she was ready to face the truth. She almost made it there too, until _he_ shuffled the pages.

Slowly, Vits spun to face the intruder, her mind leaping to memory, to the note that Raylan had left her. Her emerald green eyes opened wide, surprise mingled with fear. The brilliant orbs rested upon a man, the only man who had the audacity to be there.

Her gaze narrowed, anger and hatred spewing forth at his cheek, at his daring. Then she looked at his face. The utter delight scared her down to her soul. She knew the amount of power he had, and the amount she didn't have now. He knew what the letter said, what she needed to know.

Her first reaction was to run, the second to strangle him. Her body, confused by its commands, attempted to do both. She launched herself across her tiny room, Vits knew its boundaries better than her assailant, who tried to back away, but instead found a solid wall. However, her body attempted to save itself, so she fell short, managing to grab the letter, and do a spectacularly painful belly-flop on the table, which cracked from the impact.

Vits gasped from the air leaving her body, and rolled. However, living in such tight quarters, she rolled off the table, and fell in the small gap between the table and the stove. Her knee became caught on the oven's handle, which supported her weight for a moment, then broke under the strain of gravity, and both crashed loudly upon the floor.

As the outsider watched this, he thought, _She is human, just like everyone else, _and a cruel grin settled upon his face. Vits forced herself to remember just which son of a bitch stood before her through the pain. There had been a sharp crack as her knee crashed up on the stove, and then fell again upon the bleeding oven's handle. The sailor's daughter forced herself to stand, and didn't allow herself to show the pain that ripped up and down her leg as it threatened to give out. She angrily broke the silence first.

"What the fucking hell are you doing in my apartment?" She demanded an answer. Her tone wasn't loud, but it didn't need to be to convey her rage.

Patron Claude Burke paused, taken aback for a moment his strength failed him. Then he remembered the letter's contents. He knew by her face, that she had not read it. A smile grew upon his face that struck true fear into Vits's heart. She could take anything he dished out on her own behalf. She could not, however, take that and what he wanted to punish Raylan for.

"I was just dropping by to," He paused, his smile widening sickly, "Discuss certain matters with you." His tone was soft and sweet, knowing that he now held the power, and she poised no threat to him. Not anymore.

"So you read my mail?" Vits demanded again, her anger mounting, but not as fast as her fear rose, bile climbing up her throat, threatening to spew out of her mouth, as the world swam. She didn't know how much longer she could take the pain. That more than anything wore down her defense, and her anger.

Claude chose to ignore that, knowing that he truly had no right to read her mail, but he did hold the power still. He flaunted it cruelly through his threats, "I know your sordid secret. I know why she had to leave. I know where she is. I can inform the police." He lost his nerve at that point, under her death glare. He rushed for the door, becoming nervous.

Vits swallowed, knowing he had a point. She looked broken; she lost this battle, and was forced, for once, to submit to his orders, to his commands. Claude turned around to face her at the door, once seeing the look in her eyes his face lighting up in an oily smile. He had won. Finally, he beat the uppity little bitch at her own game. He was master now. Triumphantly he spoke, "I'll make it real easy for you. I promise."

Vits doubted that very much, but she didn't say anything, knowing that speaking would only make matters worse. If that was possible.

"Simply do as I ask, whatever I ask. And I won't air out your secret," The oily smile returned, "Deal?"

Vits felt cornered; there was no where to run in this situation, no way out. She had no choice for the first time with this man. Vits nodded, her eyes filled with unspeakable hatred.

The Patron pushed his luck, exerting his new found command immediately "Do we? Say it."

The hatred in her green eyes grew, doubling. "Yes, we have a deal," Her tone was surly, forced against her will, and chocked off when Burke smiled broadly.

"Very well," He laughed, practically giddy with his new luck, his precious threat. With that he turned and left, softly shutting the door behind him.

As the door shut, Vits sank into the chair she had been using to support herself. The tears flowed anew once she was left to her silence. After a few minutes of sobbing she forced herself to regain her composure. Crying wasn't going to help anything.

Her swollen eyes fell upon the evil letter still clasped in her hands, finally reading it through lingering tears. She read it once through, then again, followed by several more times, just to make sure she had read it correctly. It was as she feared, her suspicions confirmed. Within the pages was Raylan's horrid confession, all the ghastly mistakes. She had made mistakes that indeed guaranteed the law would follow her till the end, and would bring certain death if she were ever found. The damned letter, it told everything, and because of it he knew those mistakes. The bastard knew Raylan's crimes, and he would hold them over Vits, a lingering threat for her to obey or watch him betray her one friend.

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**Woot! Got another post up! I am happy! Alright, well sorry it took so long and that it is so short. I will try to make the next one quicker. Please leave a review, and all that jazz. Thanks everyone! Until later...Ciao!**

**-Olivia N.**


	17. His Domain: Tickled

**OMG! I am SO sorry! I was so busy with school and my band that I somewhat forgot to post again. PLEASE FORGIVE ME! I've been working on this story, I just never got around to putting it in the format. I AM SO SORRY! I love all my reviewers- I didn't mean to make you all wait for so long. PLEASE FORGIVE ME! **

**A Few Thanks**

**surf with music- Woot! Another fellow clarinet player! Waha! We clarinets are beginning to consume the music world as we know it! Victory dance! Hehe, yea, so calming down, I play clarinet too, if that wasn't a given from my reaction. Yea, it kind of is a bother not being able to do drum corps, I agree, and my school doesn't let clarinets in jazz band so that's a real bummer. But, hey, can't complain. I'm a senior, and my section this year is amazing so I am a happy camper. Our show this year is Earth, Wind, and Fire. How cool is that? Oh yea, as for the name Raylan, give me a chance to go find it and I will get back to you on that. Thanks for the comment! Sorry I took so long updating.**

**Dernhelm- You called the patron a smurf... that...is...so... TRUE! Ha! That was a great comment, and a great way to sum him up. Bravo! And as for Ethan being comic relief...yea that would suck if he died right now, cause I mean, who would stir up trouble if not the jealous male? And the coffins coming...it's coming! Really it is... whenever those darn grave robbers get here. Thanks for the comment. Sorry about it taking so long.**

**shimmeringtears- Aw, you are the greatest! I am so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so SO sorry this took so long. Please, I beg for forgiveness! I've been a bad authoress... I'm so sorry I kept the update from you. Thanks for every great comment you have ever made. I'm so sorry this took so long. You're my favorite reviewer and I am sorry that I might possibly disappoint you by not updating.**

**Ok, I must grovel... I seriously feel bad for not updating sooner. Please forgive me! I offer you this update to serve as a peace offering. I hope it pleases. Thanks so much everyone, and once more I apologize for the delay.**

**-Olivia N.**

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Raylan's wildly curling, brown head popped out of the door at least an hour past the time they had arrived. She looked back and forth, eyeing the surrounding before daring to take a step outside her room into the dark, cool atmosphere of the Phantom's cave. Her motions were soft, nearly inaudible as she slid barefoot across the stone surface, her rich brown eyes consuming all images that lay about her.

She was careful, eyeing each dark crevasse and opposite room, keeping a watchful eye out for her host. Swiftly she darted across the room into the dark corridor she had watched the Phantom escort her dear companion from a small opening in her door. They had vanished into the darkest of halls, past a place where her eye sight could not follow. She only prayed Ethan had held his tongue about this Opera ghost, and that he was safe as their host had promised.

Her eyes had begun to adjust to the dark lighting of their hosts night world, but the hall that she had entered had no means of light of any form. So her pace slowed as she fumbled about blindly through the corridor, praying to come upon some lit room where possibly her companion was being kept.

Suddenly two candle lights loomed in the distance, even and unmoving, their yellow flames constant, waiting for her. The hall around them seemed to grow black about those two unblinking points.

Raylan moved trustingly towards them, convincing herself that it would indeed be the entrance to her companions quarters.

The lights waited, for her arrival, for her to feel her companion's door. Raylan's hand outstretched, groping for the door knob, but before she could grasp anything, a voice echoed through the hallway as she walked past. It asked harshly, "Where are you going?"

Raylan instantly jumped like a startled cat, her shoulders raising to about her cheeks and fists lifted instinctively as she stared wide eyed about.

The lights smiled as he stood waiting for her to respond, hidden within his darkness. His domain.

"Uh," Ray hesitantly spoke to the darkness, "To see my friend... I think."

"You should have asked me. You can easily die down here," The smile grew, "Too easily."

"Oh...so it's you," She finally lowered her hands to her sides, sighing with relief before she continued, "I couldn't find you."

"You didn't look very hard," He growled. Obviously, he had watched.

"I didn't wish to intrude in your private space," She cleverly retorted with somewhat of a side grin.

The yellow eyes hardened into slits. "So you say," His voice was harsh and displeased.

Her ears caught the tone and so she replied tenderly, "I apologize sir."

For a moment it was a deathly silent, and then he asked gentler than before, "Do you wish to see your companion?"

"I was just curious to if he was comfortable or not," She bit her bottom lip hesitantly, "I wont if it displeases you."

"He is suitably comfortable. A bit put off that I was forced to separate you, but there are few other habitual rooms. I have so few visitors, that I never made room for them. However, I think that after a while he will see why he is there," His voice was still so strong, always commanding and dominating.

Raylan's brows knitted in confusion, "What do you mean?"

The Phantom grinned, a soft, sad smile, "I'm not entirely a horrible person. He will learn that soon, I believe... If you wish to see him-" A candelabra suddenly appeared-lit. The twin lights had been his eyes, glowing in the dark, Raylan realized as her own gaze fell puzzled upon the small flickering flame. A black gloved hand distracted her eyes though as the Phantom pointed towards the darkness, "You should take the next left and it will _dead_ end there."

She nodded, thankfully and respectfully. Very carefully she made her way around him, the hall closed enough that she could feel the very warmth of his body as she shuffled past.

Strangely though she stopped mere inches from his reach, staring thoughtfully into those glowing eyes behind the darkness of a veiling mask. "Monsieur, if I may be as bold to inquire," She paused, once again nibbling the edge of her lip in deep thought, "I...I would very much like to be able to address you by a name...if that is not too much to ask. I... I would just like to be able to call you by any other name than the ones you are known for in the Opera House. It doesn't seem... polite for a house guest to call you Phantom."

Through the darkness Raylan could see him nod in agreement, but his reply was slow and hesitant. He spoke it as if it were a secret, to only be known by few in this world. "Erik," He replied gently, "I am called Erik."

A small, true smile spread across her pretty pink lips and she repeated warmly, "Erik... lovely name."

He dipped his head in a nod. _Oh! So like Christine this one is. _So very curious, always curious of the man within the beast.

Again she smiled, a small bashful laugh escaping her broadening grin. It had been long since she had been so close to any other man than Ethan, so very long since she had heard the gentle kindness in a mans voice... and strange it was that it would come from him.

When her cheeks began to flush nervously was when she continued to edge slowly away, still facing him and smiling although her hands now clasped her cheeks to hide the scarlet blush. "Uh," She stuttered nervously, "I'm uh...I'm just going to go check on my boy...um...thank you Monsieur... Erik."

He nodded, a small smile of his own appearing upon his pale flesh, "Very well." And like always, with a majestic swirl of his cloak, Erik disappeared into the darkness.

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Raylan watched him until he disappeared, content with the way their conversation had ended probably for the first time in all their brief conversations. Sighing with relief she made her way down the hall, following his instructions precisely. It had not been long until she found the dark door within the corridor, raping on it lightly as a greeting.

The door creaked open. Blue eyes peeked out, looking worried. They relaxed upon settling on Raylan's face, the door instantly opening to admit her in.

His room wasn't luxurious by any means, but the Phantom had been right, it was suitable. A fair sized bed dominated a corner, with thick quilts to ward off the chill from the damp stone floors. Candle lamps lit up the room, and a dresser sat upon the opposing wall as the bed, old and worn, suggesting a story of its past. On the wall sharing the door, stood a writing desk-complete with ink, paper, and quills. The wall opposite the door stood empty, naked.

Raylan gazed about with skeptical eyes and laughed, "Well...mine's better."

Ethan nodded with a grim smile, "He likes you better."

"Well, I also pose less of a threat to him," Raylan pointed out wisely as she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

Ethan gave her a look, "In what way? I haven't threatened him, _yet._"

Raylan chuckled, "Your another male in his territory. It's basic animal instinct."

"Bah!" Ethan scoffed, but knowing silently she was right. She was always right, sadly.

Raylan chuckled, a small and warm laugh. "He isn't that bad," Raylan said gently, a kind smile on her lips.

"You're not in the dungeon," Ethan pouted, sticking out his bottom lip for emphasis.

"And you're not in the heart of the lions den," She shot back with a sly grin.

He thought on that for a moment, before admitting with a growl, "Good point."

Raylan did a small victory dance, the playful side of her rejoicing of her witty victory over Ethan.

Ethan made a face and turned his back to her. "Not nice," He sulked, using the classic moping method.

Raylan said in an innocently sweet voice, "Ethan...aww, don't be like that. I still love you...although you are sulking like a baby and I am making faces at you behind your back."

Ethan huffed and stuck his tongue out at her over his shoulder, joining in their traditional game.

"Oh!" Raylan grinned devilishly, "So that's how it is going to be." With that she bound to her feet and grasped him around the center, tickling his sides with swift fingers.

Ethan couldn't resist her torture and he began to laugh, loud, obnoxious giggles.

Raylan laughed along with him, not being able to resist the humor in it all. Her tickling didn't last long though before she fell to the floor in a heap of laughter.

Ethan watched her, laughing helplessly.

It was nice to laugh, for the both of them. Things had been so stressful lately, so damn dangerous that both had nearly forgotten how much they enjoyed each others warm company.

She had always been able to joke with him, that was the one thing Raylan missed the most, always able to be open with him- without fear of how he would react. Looking up to him with fond eyes she said warmly, "I've missed this."

He nodded, "As have I." Ethan then pulled her to her feet once more, this time clasping his arms about her waist and pulling her into a soft hug.

She sighed, gently leaning into him and nestling her head into the dip of his shoulder. He was always so warm, always so comforting, the very idea of a good man. A lover or a brother, he would always hold some kind place in her heart.

Giving a releasing sigh she said softly, "I'm so sorry Renold...for forcing you here, for making you feel like I didn't love you...for everything I have ever done wrong. I'm sorry for the life you have been made to live, and the loss of the one that could have been...if only we had left you alone."

He lifted her chin, and looked into her eyes, his voice soft and honest as he said, "I had any number of times to back out. I had the choice to leave, at any point. I didn't have to go through with this. And, I'm not sorry that I did. I don't blame you, I never did. It was-and still is- my choice. I always knew you loved me Eb, maybe not the way I wanted you to, but I figured it out. Our love is a different king of love, a stronger love, and that's good enough."

"Our brotherly, sisterly love you mean?" She laughed, giving him a gentle, joking punch to the shoulder.

"Of course," In return, he ruffled he hair.

Raylan's already wildly curling hair practically turned into a fro from the action, and with a gentle growl she left his embrace, trying to tame the mass with her hands. "Damnit," She cursed under her breath, "I have a bush for a head."

He laughed, and said mockingly, "Shall I call you... bushy?"

She glared, "Not unless you want to become a stub." She made a threatening scissor motion towards his crotch.

Ethan's hands quickly moved to protect himself, "That's not necessary."

"Oh come on, no one wants to see you reproduce anyways," She said, an evil grin crossing her lips.

"You're evil," he cried, scooting away.

She gave a nonchalant shrug and advanced on him, that playful but still malicious grin widening.

He gulped, "Now c'mon Eb, let's think this through."

She laughed, "Thinking? How will that help? It's never stopped me before." With that she pounced, practically tackling him upon the bed and once again digging her fingers into his sides as she began the whole tickle attack again.

He laughed and squirmed, but managed to catch her hands in his before the tickling climaxed.

Raylan's eyes widened when he caught her hands, and she squirmed to get free...but barely.

He held fast and pressed his luck, "Oh! what now?"

She squealed cheerfully, "Ah! Help! He's going to...going to... tickle me!" It was all a giant play, one that she had to admit she enjoyed immensely. Sometimes in times of great stress, life called for moments of randomness.

"Indeed, I am," He took both of her hands in one of his, and proceeded to attack her.

She squealed and wiggled helplessly, laughing hysterically and wriggling like a snake. Several times she bit her tongue to fight back screaming with laughter, only slightly worried that their host would get suspicious in hearing such sounds, but after a few moments she could help it.

She screamed through laughs, "Ah! Alright, alright! I give! I give! Ethan! Ah! That tickles! I give!"

He laughed, still holding her hands, "I am triumphant!"

She gasped, "Darn you and your male strength! If I was a boy I would whoop your ass." Confidence was written all over her expressions, the kind that reminded him she could fight as well as any male.

Ethan smiled, continuing to play on her words, "But you're not."

She stuck her tongue out at him, "Yes, but... I look better naked." The last bit was her last resort at sounding dominant.

Ethan paused, thinking it over. He finally admitted with a shrug, "That's true, but not by much."

She grinned, happy that she had at least won on that topic, and with a sigh of satisfaction, rolled off the bed to stand gracefully on the cold, stone floor. She smiled for a moment more before saying softly, "Well, that was interesting... now if you don't mind, I am going to try and discover just what it is our host expects me to do to repay him. He has yet to answer that question."

Ethan frowned at being brought back to reality, even more at her statement. He warned sternly, "Be careful what he asks of you."

"It will be fine," Raylan reassured him with little courage. She somewhat doubted the statement herself.

He nodded just as doubtfully, "I hope so."

Again she smiled, this one more subdued and gentle as she ruffled his hair playfully. "No worries my friend," She sighed as she made her way towards the door, "No worries." With that she exited, closing his door softly behind her.

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Raylan's travel back into the foyer was much quicker, this time actually knowing the way. She was relieved least to say when she entered, her eyes rejoicing at the sighting of light. With a relieved sigh she paced across the stone alcove, her bare feet making soft padding noises as she walked.

Music trickled softly down to her, the organ singing as it had upon her entrance to this palace of darkness. Raylan paused, her ears catching the gentle sound wafting through the air. Her eyes turned to lay upon her host, sitting once again at his infamous organ, playing oh so softly a tune she could barely hear.

Once he felt her eyes upon him, the music stopped, and he looked up,"Yes?"

"Um," She grinned sheepishly and said the first thing that popped into her head, "How are you?"

Erik's lips thinned. He had obviously not wished to be interrupted. "I am fine," He growled, annoyed to be disturbed for such a simple question, "And you?"

She shrugged and answered honestly, "Tickled."

An eyebrow raised at this, but he dismissed questioning it, "And what do I owe for this great pleasure?"

"Well," For a moment she pondered, again nibbling her lip in silent contemplation, "I was...well I was just wondering if perhaps you have decided exactly what it is you desire me to repay you with. I know that last time we spoke of it you had not made up your mind... perhaps now you have?"

He nodded, "I have decided. I shall see what you protect more than anything," He paused to relish in the anxiety of the moment, and then continued with a wicked grin, "Your journal."

"My journal..." She repeated him with weak, shocked words, her mouth hanging limply, "But...but Monsieur... I will answer any question you have to ask... what good could it possibly be to you?" The sides of her lips twitched nervously. _No_, she couldn't give him that. Everything was in there- everything! It was her life, everything he needed and some things he had no right knowing.

He smiled, a cold smile, "I am not so certain I can trust your spoken words Mademoiselle, but I do not believe you would lie to your own personal thoughts."

She nodded, a cold glare in her eyes and her voice bitter as she asked, "Then you are certain that is all you want?"

He mulled for a moment and then said contently, "For the moment, yes."

Raylan's eye twitched when he said _for the moment_, but she chose to ignore it and gave a stiff curtsey. "Very well," She almost growled, "I shall go fetch it for you."

**Thanks yall! Sorry for the delay! Try to make the next one sooner. Thanks everyone.**

**Your Faithful, but Late Authoress,**

**-Olivia N.**


	18. The Comforts of Conversation

**YES! HA! I AM TRIUMPHANT! Finally I have finished editing this update. Whew, that took a while, wouldn't you agree? Alright, well lets get right to it, shall we?**

**Disclaimer (I keep forgetting this thing) But like everyone knows, I own nothing from the Phantom Of The Opera. I only own original characters.**

**And Now For The I LOVE MY REVIEWERS aka A Few Thanks**

**Juilette Delphe- Lol- yea I know. I loved that line too. I literally laughed out loud when I wrote then that and then continued to laugh for no apparent reason. Yes, and what is with the kill oven Summy? Hmmm? HMMMM?**

**surf with music- Ooo, good luck with the Drum Major thing dude, that would be awesome. Definitely tell me if you make it. Yea, I really enjoyed the Erik and Ray interaction as well...that is why this part in entirely Erik and Raylan as well... hehehe. Yea, and we learn more about Ethan, at your request. Hope this is just as satisfying of a update.**

**Dernhelm- Coffins coming, it's coming... and also at your request here is section slapped full of Erik... and the coffin is coming... but good question. Who is the coffins father? Hmmm... -looks accusingly at the organ-. **

**Rita- Hehe, thanks so much! Well, sorry, no more fics yet, but be patient. Summy and I are coming out with a POTO parody of our own just as soon as we are finished with this story. Should be interesting and I will let you know when we open it so you can check it out. Thanks for reading this though, its awesome that you could finish in a few hours. It would take me days, I'm an incredibly slow reader.**

**Alright, well thanks everyone, and now here is the update long awaited. Enjoy!**

**-Olivia N.**

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Raylan moved gravely towards her room, once there opening the door as slowly as she could draw the moment out. She felt the cold chill of the dark room blast against her skin as she entered leaving the door open to use the light of a thousand candles in the foyer to see. She didn't want to give him this, never this, but she was in no position to deny him- not yet.

Her room was only slightly larger than Ethan's, and in much better shape. The polished surfaces of the furniture, the neatly pressed sheets and stylish decor of her quarters suggested one of two things. Either he had certainly spent more time on her room than any others, or this room had already been prepared and waiting for someone. Raylan shrugged off the curious thoughts as she shuffled towards the foot of her beautiful mahogany bed. At its polished feet were her two aged suitcases, the larger one in front, guarding the smaller one as always.

She fell to her knees before her largest suitcase and with shaking hands opened the warn leather. There, placed carefully on top of everything, was her precious journal, her blasted life placed in magical words upon paper. She took the red book into her shivering clutches and drew it to her chest, cradling the thing as if it were a child, her own child. Everything, all the precious and horrid moments of her past were in there... even...

Her eyes shot to the book in utter horror, remembering some of the things she had placed within the pages. There were things of _him_ in there, pages upon pages that she had written in her little investigation of the Phantom. There were things she had written, private thoughts, twisted hopes and childish fantasies that she certainly did not want him to find. Stupid accusations she had written before curiosity had caused her to discover the truths of the monster in Hell. So many foolish words, there was no telling what troubles they could form if he was ever to read them.

Raylan turned shifty eyes to the door, making sure he would not see, and then silently she opened the journal. She flipped back to the pages of her first night in the Opera Populaire, the first night were she had written some rather embarrassing thoughts about the so called ghost. From there she ripped the pages out, all of the pages she had written since her first night in the Opera House being swiftly removed and shoved into the confines of her suitcase. She only prayed he wouldn't notice.

Smoothing out the ruffed edges within, she closed the book and the suitcase, clutching her precious journal to her chest and walking solemnly back into the foyer.

His music slowed to a halt as she entered, timing it so that the last noted ended when she stood before him. His green eyes fell upon her expectantly as he questioned, "Is that it?"

"Yes," She said with a solemn sigh and extended the book towards him.

He nodded, "Very well." His black gloved hands left his organ's keys and reached out, his fingertips coming to caress the red leather as one would caress a lover. Eagerness trembled through his fingers, the hunger to know more. His lips had begun to quiver with anticipation as he eased the book from her hands, his voice coming out a gentle murmur of, "Thank you."

Raylan's arms dropped heavily to her sides, her eyes remaining fixed upon the red binding as he lowered it to his lap. "Careful with it," She said swiftly, her voice trembling and sounding almost like a concerned mother, "It's...it's important...to me."

"I would not hurt it for all the world," He reassured her, his eyes still holding to the book placed so carefully over his thighs, "I just wish to enter the pages and dip beneath the words to experience a place far from here," He paused with a sigh, then added bitterly, "Far from these damp dungeons."

Instantly her eyes softened and rose to his strange face, her voice gentle and cautious as she questioned, "Have you never seen the world? Other than this...this place I mean."

Erik's gaze snapped up to hers, and for a moment Raylan was convinced he would strike her. Her body flinched expectantly, but surprisingly he answered instead of raising a fist towards her damned curiosity. "I have been beyond these walls, even beyond the country's boarders," He said simply, only a small twinge of pain in his eyes hinting his dislike of the subject, "But alas what holds me to this dismal hell, forced my leaving of them as well."

Raylan's head tilted curiously to one side, "Is...is it alright for me to ask why?"

"Because my thirst for knowledge was great, my understanding even greater. And my hideousness only aided their decision"

"Your face, you mean?" Her words paused and for a moment she stared curiously at the harsh white mask that hid half of his beautiful face. Memories rolled through her mind, fond recollections of her years of innocence, the few years of peace she had found in those northern plains. Then in a curiously warm voice she continued, "I knew a boy once, when I was still free in America...you'll probably read about him somewhere in the beginning. My mother and I moved to South Dakota when I was about thirteen...after she left my father. Momma had this big dream about owning her own land, with her own rules, with some peace where she could seek solitude. No towns were around because it was technically savage land, perfect to my mother, so we had struck a bargain with the local tribe and they let us stay.

"They, um, they called themselves the Lakota, one part of the Sioux Nation. I... I spent a lot of time with that tribe, seeing as my mother was always occupied...and I met this Lakota boy, about my age. They called him One With Two Souls. He...he was born differently from all the other Lakota... he came out with problems...like he hadn't been fully formed in his mothers womb. I'll admit that at first I was afraid of him, although no one in his tribe showed the slightest sign of fear. They were kind to him, a people capable of seeing beyond imperfections of the body, and after some time I began to see the beauty as well. He...he became my best friend... he became the one light in my world... and I... I miss him," Her voice trailed off, a hint of what dreaded end that story held.

Though the mask hid it extremely well, Raylan could of swore she saw a tear trickle from the Phantom's deformed eye. For a moment Erik could not speak, then very softly he whispered, "That is why I wish to know about America."

She gave a small laugh, "It has its ups and its downs, like everywhere else, but I'll admit that I miss it. It's been almost two years since I've been home...makes me sad to know I can't go back...but if you ever do get the chance to go... I'd suggest California...someplace on the Pacific coast. It's beautiful there."

Erik shook his head in disagreement. He said almost coldly, "I have seen places of great beauty, and have no desire to see anymore. I desire something much harder to find...acceptance."

She nodded, understanding. "Well, if you are willing to accept their ways, I have no doubt the Lakota would take you as one of their own...as they did me," She sighed wishfully, and then added with a playful smile, "You do your share of the work, be kind and accepting of their ways, and who knows...they might even fix you up with a pretty little Sioux girl. It's ritual," She laughed sweetly, "They tried to bind me with a Sioux boy but my mother wouldn't have it."

Erik shrugged, almost considering the thought, "If I get there, I shall decide upon my resting place."

She nodded, "Well, take it into consideration." She stretched then, arching her back and giving a small groan. Her muscles were aching after the rough housing with Ethan, her shoulders tense and stiff. She rolled her shoulders a few times as her mind pondered what else to say to him. It had been a rather pleasant conversation so far, and strangely she didn't desire for it to end, most likely in fear of the next one to have the opposite effect.

He watched her intently, wondering what lay beneath her hard calloused shell. She certainly wouldn't tell him everything, nor would her journal, but it was a start. He suggested, noting the tension in her muscles as she stretched, "There is a bathing room, should you require such amenities."

She nodded, "Sounds pleasant...but not just yet. I... I was um...not exactly ready to leav...if that's alright." She bit her lip, obviously excepting to get the worst of reactions.

The Phantom set the journal aside, interested in this new opportunity. He gestured to a chair sitting to her left, "What is it you desire?"

She grinned and sat in the chair with much gratitude written on her expressions. Her voice came out gentle, a pleasant and friendly tone as she said, "I like talking to you. You actually listen...instead of waiting for me to be finished. It's refreshing really... I've missed being able to talk to someone openly." She added on shakily, "If...if that's alright I mean."

For a moment he was silent, taken aback by the girls wish, then very shakily he nodded, "Few wish to speak to me, so for those who do, I listen."

She laughed, a relieved giggle as if she had finally heard something she had been waiting for years to hear. "Thank you," She said softly, a broad and true smile on her face, "I... I can't tell you how long I've been wanting someone to talk to...someone who could even slightly understand. Understand if I begin to annoy you or you grow tired of me you are most certainly in the right to tell me to shove it...and if you so desire you can talk to me...about anything if you wish... I can be a good listener...when I shut up."

Erik smiled, slightly flattered by the new opportunity she provided. Certainly, it would be a comfort to have someone to speak with, but at the same time... he was not ready to open to another. No, his heart couldn't take letting someone else in... not again... not yet.

"I will always be there for you, when you need me most," He assured her gently, but then added on a subliminal warning as he said, "For now, I will be content to listen to you talk... and only listen."

With that the Phantom of the Opera looked away from his guest, his gaze running across his stone prison, a prison which he built, which he designed and knew so well. Even though it was extremely spacious the walls always seemed to close in on him, always leaving him yearning for something more... something more alive than the dead life he lead here.

His private thoughts then escaped his lips as he uttered, "Perchance America will over look the misdeeds of my past and allow me rest in their lands, as a free man. My soul needs a salvation after so many years in a Hell's prison."

Naturally, Raylan responded, giving a small shrug as she sighed, "Perhaps, for a foreigner who has made no real crime against them, maybe, but they don't easily forgive... at least that's how it was with me."

He raised a questioning eyebrow and returned his gaze to hers, "But you are only accused. Surely they see a difference in accusation and guilt."

Raylan gave a obviously guilty grin as she began to nervously chew on her lip once more. "I'm guilty for most of it," She muttered through her childish nibbling, "The armed robbery was entirely my choice and I take full responsibility for it. The deaths however... I am technically only responsible for one... but one was enough I suppose, although truly it was much more a loss to me than it was to them."

"You must have had a good reason. You are not the type of person who kills for pleasure,"

"No, I'm not," She agreed solemnly, "But sometimes I'm not sure if my reasons were good enough. He had done nothing to me, he had not harmed me like he did them, but it was justice you see... an eye for an eye, and I just happened to be the only one who could get close enough to him to do it."

Erik nodded, piecing together what he had learned of the girls past and trying his best to understand, "I believe that his actions against others hurt you deeper than any action against you could have."

Raylan's eyes fell heavily upon her lap, her head tilting forward as if waiting for the axe to fall and end her there. Her shoulders slumped weakly and her voice was no stronger as she muttered barely above a whisper, "It wasn't supposed to be like that though, it wasn't supposed to end like that. It was supposed to be just a normal run, just another heist. You know, the whole run in, guns blazing, don't hurt no one but scare 'em just enough to make them do what you want.

'We'd done it a thousand times before and never been caught; were nearly the States most wanted criminals. They had thousands, almost millions, on our heads or for our capture. Dead or alive, they didn't really care. He though... Arron I mean, he had a way with escape." Her voice faded for a moment, her eyes seeming to be looking somewhere beyond her knees, to someplace she could no longer be. After almost a minute passed, she finally shook out of it, giving a nervous laugh as she jolted her eyes back to his face, "It's all in the journal though- I'm sure you'd rather prefer to read it than hear it come from my blubbering' mouth."

To her surprise he gave a defiant shake of the head and leaned eagerly forward. "Paper shows little feeling. The voice, however, tells all," He said, softly urging her on.

"Ain't it the truth," She laughed humorlessly, "Oh well- isn't much else to figure out. You're a smart man, I'm pretty sure you can figure out how the game was played... and how it was ended. The major piece's though, the reason it all went bad, was technically because of Ethan... or at least the woman he had been associating with. See, Arron and I had never worked with Ethan and Melanie before, but we were short a few hands and Arron knew Melanie's father well enough for him to be able to help us out.

'Before us, Ethan had done nothing like this. He was a good, wholesome little Northerner...and yes Ethan is not from the South...and he isn't my brother. He was actually engaged to Melanie, and in dire need to impress Melanie's father in hopes for her pops blessing. Melanie's pop however was a piece of scum, and used Ethan to his advantage, recruited him to help us with our 'job'. Melanie didn't like it one bit, had always been against the whole heist thing. She threatened to call the police on her own father if he ever did it again... so as you can imagine we found it odd that she wanted to come along when we recruited Ethan.

'Stupidly, we accepted Ethan, and let his little bitch come along too. Arron thought Melanie might come in handy as a good look out while Ethan would be the extra muscle. We should have known better really, Arron should have known, but he was the type of man that when he got his mind set on something, nothing else could distract him from his goal... not even common sense."

Erik nodded, "So Melanie alerted the police?"

"Alerted?" Raylan laughed harshly, "More like served us to them on a silver platter. Wanted the money on our heads, she did, and god help me I even trusted the little bitch for a time... I... I was so foolish back then. I was always so blind."

Erik listened intently to every word, and when her voice had faded away he let the silence hang between them. He allowed her time to gather her composure then, to raise her internal walls so no memory could hurt her anymore. It was an effective method at times, locking yourself away, and oh how well he knew this method. After sufficient time Erik asked gently, "Have you exacted your revenge?"

Raylan growled, a clear answer, and looked away, muttering spitefully, "No. The police are protecting her now." Again, she went silent and then suddenly she laughed viciously, somewhat alarming the Phantom as she spat, "Can you believe it? She is actually traveling with those damned so called 'law enforcers', helping them follow our trail. She...she wants Ethan back."

"I disagree with modern society's attempt at law enforcement. It's pathetic, and often quite wrong," He mulled that openly, and then continued on track with a question of, "She has a claim on Ethan?" His curiosity sparked, his mind wandering back to wondering about the noises he had heard from the boy's room earlier.

"I'm not sure if claim is the correct word," She paused, think it over, and then shrugged, "Like I said, Ethan was practically dragged into this. He was her fiance, and apparently she agreed to help the police if they let Ethan go free, or at least that was the initial plan. Whether its changed or not, I don't know. Melanie was never one for letting go though. I suppose she is still in love with Ethan though, and somehow still believes Ethan loves her."

"Did he love her?"

"I believe so," She looked back at the dark tunnel, almost checking to make sure they were not being heard, and then continued, "But I think his feelings have died over the years, beginning with when she betrayed us."

Erik nodded, leaving his thoughts to himself. "It is hard to keep feelings of love through betrayal," Oh how those words stung, and stung true

"No kidding," Raylan scoffed, slumping back into the chair. Silence lingered between them for some time again, nothing but the soft rhythm of their own breathing filling the space between. It was obvious through their gazes and denial to elaborate that neither wished to continue that conversation.

Finally Raylan changed to a happier subject. It was an entirely random and slightly childish question but it certainly broke the silence as she inquired, "So- chicken or beef?"

He looked at her questioningly, "For what? Breakfast?"

She shrugged, "Any meal. What do you prefer more?"

"Depends," He thought, "Chicken has more variety of meals. Beef has a bolder flavor."

She nodded, "Indeed. I prefer beef myself. I truly am a Southerner, and beef is our specialty. I know so many different ways to serve it that its not even funny."

Erik gave a short, amused chuckle, "Perhaps you should prepare a meal sometime, though you would be hard pressed to beat Vits. I forced her to cook me dinner when I caught her down here once... she is a fine chef." He smiled inwardly at the memory.

Raylan laughed, "Well, I will gladly cook for you sometime Monsieur, but only when the time is right and when I choose to. Forced to cook and I might not do real well."

Erik's eyes suddenly snapped to hers, anger momentarily seething beneath them. There was her resistance again, her damn backbone. Her stubbornness never seemed to falter, even in the depths of Hell, before the Devil's Child. For a moment Erik though of correcting this behavior, but her humored laughter all but diminished the fire that had so rapidly exploded inside him. His gaze slowly returning to the controlled smooth look, Erik nodded and said strongly, "Very well. Inform me ahead of time so I can go to the market and acquire what you will need."

"Alright," She grinned sweetly, flashing her traditional calming affect, before she continued with her little question game, "Next question- potato or peas?"

"Potatoes,"

She laughed, "Yes, I like them too, but truth be told I am a pea addict. I love peas...I have no idea why."

Erik chuckled, his body becoming somewhat relaxed again as he leaned back against the organ, "Peas are good too."

"Yes," She grinned and laughed at herself, "My brothers and I used to fight over them at the dinner table when I was young. We'd steal them off each others plates. Momma hated that."

He chuckled. "I'm sure you gave them a run for their money... or should I say peas?"

Raylan laughed whole heartedly, "Oh, they learned to fear my skills with a fork."

"A fork is a formidable weapon,"

She laughed and then attempted to look serious as she joked, "Not nearly as formidable as the spoon."

He looked her over, withholding a laugh as he commented, "Entirely possible, though I have never tried to defend myself solely with a spoon."

She laughed, "Clearly you didn't grow up with four brothers."

"No, I was an only child,"

"Oh?" Her brows raised in curiosity, obviously enthralled to hear something remotely about his past, "Did you mother only want one?"

"I don't remember. I only know that I am alone," A soft pain carried through his voice, his momentarily cheerful gaze once again slipping into the distant and solemn gaze he so constantly bared.

Raylan immediately picked up on the pain and instinctively began to comfort, saying warmly and with gentle humor, "Well... you aren't anymore. We're here now...even if we may be unwanted, it's still company, right?"

Erik's eyes sought hers, searching for the truth within them. He wasn't sure how to answer. A slow and hesitant "true" slipped through his lips, and lingered weakly in the air between them, filled with the fear and doubt his mind held towards this.

Again Raylan smiled, that sweet and comforting Southern grin. She allowed for their eyes to connect, allowing him to gaze through the window of her soul without any hint of fear or reconsideration. She wanted to let him know she was not afraid, not afraid of him and certainly not afraid to become a friend. Still watching him with those large, chocolate eyes, she responded with a simple nod of reassurance. An unspoken promise.


	19. Suspicion

**Edit Note: Sorry guys, new chapter coming soon, but I had to edit this one before I went to the next. One, I had to change the appearance of Erik's coffin, and two I had to fix a few spelling errors. I promise I will be back with a brand new update in no time. Lots of hugs and thanks, and I should have a update at least by Friday. Thanks everyone,**

**-Olivia N.**

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**And finally after two weeks of being buried up to my nose in projects, three all day Marching Band Competitions (which we got all One's and Superior's on. Woot!), endless chores, bouncing in between families, and trying to retain a social life, I have finally finished another update! Ah, I will literally cry if no one likes this chapter just cause I am proud that I have managed to get this done even with my schedule slammed pack. Hey, I know there are others who do more (I thankfully don't have to balance a job too) but I am darn proud of myself... and extremely tired, but that isn't the point. The point is, here is a new UPDATE! Yes! Let's celebrate! Sumner, throw a party! I'll bring the food, the Erik, and the rigged empty Yoo-Hoo bottle that no matter who spins it will always land on him. This will be a blast!**

**A Few Thanks**

**surf with music- AP Science, uhhgg, that has to be painful. I'm thankfully done with all my Science, and will not be taking anymore... until College... darn. Thanks with saying we got Erik pretty good... he's difficult to write properly and I'm glad you think we are at least doing slightly well. I really enjoyed that chapter, especially the peas part... I really am obsessed with peas for no reason what so ever. Lol, yea, it's odd, but hey, who doesn't have at least one weird obsession? Thanks for the review, good luck on your exam, and even if you are waiting, good luck with being Drum Major. I bet you'll make it.**

**shimmeringtears- Ok, first, let me celebrate at your return- here is the Erik and the Yoo-Hoo bottle- have at it. Second, I understand what you mean by the year that ate your life away, that seems to be happening to a lot of people recently. I know it's hard balancing classes and band at the same time, but just keep at it- it's hard, not impossible, as my band director always says. And don't worry about finding the time to review, I know you enjoy this story and that's all I need, don't push yourself to do something there is no time for. Rest first. Hugs, and here, take this Erik as a comfort- he works well.**

**Anaethken or Dernhelm- I bring you your coffin dear Dernhelm. Lol, and I have never been compared to cotton candy before, but that was a great way of putting that. Do you mind if I borrow that for future use? I will most certainly give you credit, that just really cracked me up. I do seriously wonder how randomly hugging Erik would go over though, hmmmm... possibly something to work with in the coming chapters? Maybe. Thanks for the help with the coffin. I changed it just for you. I hope you approve.**

**Alright yall, well, I heart you all but I think we should get this party started, so here you go. Enjoy!**

**-Olivia N.**

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Opening Night is often viewed as the worst night in theater due to nerves, and sheer luck-mostly Murphy's Law, representing the actors' talent under stress, which ironically, is exactly why some people only go to Opening Night. Nerves ran high at the Populaire on Opening Night-as they usually do. The show went off with the Opera's normal scurrying for lost props, missed lines, and practical jokes that pissed everyone off. Yet as usual, the Opera Populaire did extremely well, leading the audience to rave about the Operatic rendition of Shakespeare's _Midsummer Night's Dream _for days to come.

Hours after curtain fall, once most of the crowds had diminished, Vits made her way down the halls towards the Opera's kitchens, her teeth grinding to keep from screaming in pain as she strove to keep the limp from her step. She longed to get ice to relieve her throbbing knee, which was the size of a grapefruit from her latest encounter with her stove top. The night before it had swelled to the size of a melon, but her constant icing had brought it down in size-thankfully.

She managed to hide her injury from everyone but her workers-they knew her too well. Captain Dres had led her men into forcing her to keep it under ice-and do absolutely no work while healing. She had spent the day fidgeting-trying to do something without them instantly yelling at her to sit down. They were a tight knit group, and her men deeply cared about their stage manager, not wanting her to cause further injury by straining herself. Respectfully they had accepted her story of 'falling' only because she refused to offer any other explanation, however no one missed the look of utter hatred when the Patron checked in on them. Many guesses were going around to what really happened, and most weren't that far off.

At that moment the last thing Vits wanted to deal with strode up to her, watching her estranged daughter with a cold, cruel eyes, her nose turned up with a haughty smirk. The set had been terrible not nearly up to par with what she was used to-what she deserved. Things would have to change if she was going to set foot on that stage again, and Vits had no doubt that 'mother dearest' would make certain she knew this.

Malorea came valiantly forward, stopping mere inches from her daughter, her hands resting assertively on her hips. The lioness waited, poised, and ready to pounce on her prey-unsuspecting or not.

"I thought you did very well with your set, especially with such limited funds, and quite a time crunch." The lioness danced her lure tantalizingly with a sweet innocent voice while waiting the chance to spring her trap.

Vits stopped short; a look of confusion crossing her face. She treaded ground carefully, unsure how to respond, sensing a trap, but unable to define where it lay with in her mother's words.

"Thanks..." It came out uneasily, showing the evident tension between them.

"However, I did sadly over hear some of the most affluent audience members complain about the inadequacy of the set, and how the design had many flaws, and looked extremely flimsy-they were afraid that dear Carlotta might fall. That would be just awful. And the paint job was an absolute disaster! They claimed that their servants could do a better job. Can you imagine? Being compared to servants? And not in the best light," The trap sprung, the lioness pounced securing her prey to her petty whims, but to her utmost surprise, the prey side stepped easily, parrying the attack-the battle beginning.

"Really, who did you talk to? I heard quite the opposite from Monsieur Rochelle, the most affluent member of the audience. He purchases box one every year, prior to the season's opening. And attends every opening and closing night-like clock work. He sought me out specifically to congratulate me on how well I designed the set, and how sturdy it looked particularly since I used such a low amount of lumber.

'He also informed me that since I became stage manager the quality of the set had increased greatly. He also wishes that I spend several more years. And if I don't, I have an instant job within his household to design his summer homes, and anything else he sees fit. The Paisley Spinsters-a great supporter of this Opera House, commented on how well I used Shakespeare's description within his text, and how true I stayed to it, unlike our performers. They made a great contribution to your room, and dressing room," She struck with expert skill, making it even more clear that she was not one to be messed with. Her tone was cold, delivering her comments sharply and deftly without raising her voice.

Venom seeped into her mother's blue eyes followed by hatred. "I talked to a different group; unfortunately, I did not have a chance to converse with everyone," She replied stiffly, arching her back. Neither liked to be cornered.

"You know, I didn't see you out in the audience tonight. And I looked. Where were you? You certainly didn't sit with the Patron and his followers, nor the Managers. And Jacques looked lonely sitting by himself in the box you reserved for the two of you," Again Vits struck, deadly accuracy to deliver the most degrading of blows.

Malorea paused, unable to answer. She chose a different tactic; a look of pure shock came over her. "How dare you! How dare you of accuse me of not being there! Just because you didn't see me doesn't mean I wasn't there! I am truly appalled that you would have the nerve, the audacity to say such a terrible thing! I was perfectly friendly to you! That is entirely uncalled for. Honestly! I was merely going to ask for directions back to my quarters. But now I must speak with Claude about this. Your manners are absolutely terrible!" She shrieked, feigning injury.

Vits leaned back, taking her weight off her injury with a tight smirk. She saw through this whole charade. "Why the hell didn't you ask in the first place? And go ahead, tell the stupid Patron-see if I care," That was not the answer Malorea had been looking for.

She expected her daughter to cower and beg forgiveness, but of course the girl was entirely uneducated, and thus she could not be expected to act civilized. "I had hoped for a little friendly conversation, you know, to be civilized, but obviously that is not possible," She settled for her last resort: guilt trip. It is a given law that all mothers are excellent guilt trippers, and so are women in general. Yet again, the plan fell through.

"You cannot guilt someone you don't have a hold over," Vits replied tersely. Vits then roughly shouldered past her mother in the narrow hallway and disappeared into the darkness beyond, leaving her mother standing there, with her defeat.

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Erik leaned back in the dark ebony chair, pausing for a moment to stretch and gather his thoughts. Since the new inhabitants moved in, inspiration soared through his finger tips and on to the paper through the magic of a quill. For now his fingers rested, instead going to itch at the mask that hid the hideousness of his soul, the green eyes glancing around his private quarters.

Black was the theme, a rich ebony floor, his walls hung with black, furthering the feel of a dead man's quarters. Instead of the normal white trimming about the room it was instead covered by embroidered cloth, repeating over and over again the notes of _Dies Irae_. He knew it well. Few other things furnished this room of the dead, with the exception of the fine ebony desk he was presently seated at, scattered with notes, parchments, finished and forgotten pieces that the world would never see.

Finally his eyes fell to center of the room where an enlarged coffin lay, his bed raised upon its black polished platform, the casket half-open for all to see inside. The coffin was large enough for two people to sleep peacefully in, though he doubted seriously the chances of his bed ever being filled with two living corpses. Red silk bed linen, red velvet pillows, and a hidden mattress filled the inside of the polished casket, complete with blood red curtains that surrounded it like a canopy, practically camouflaging his sleeping quarters into the darkness. He found such arrangements, comfortable, and suitable for the likes of him. Tidy, mysterious, richly dark in almost a romantic sense... yes, it fit him. It harbored his nightly world he had come to understand, displayed the shadow's he had become known for. Here is was truly his world, his nightly Heaven and his dismal Hell.

Suddenly, noises echoed in through his cracked door, unmistakably laughter that was quickly muffled. Erik leaned forward, staring through the crack straight across the alcove to where he had placed Raylan. He could see the lights from her room, flooding under her door, just beyond the light of his own candle. It was a peaceful, calm light, with no bodies casting shadows to interrupt its glow, but their laughter however, said much more.

Anger raged through his veins, boiling as their rich peels of laughter echoed over his ears, the intruder's deep supporting, and countering her bright silvery tone. Yes, three definitely was a crowd. Irritated, his fingers twitched, the train of thought lost, hours of work wasted because of their insensitivity. A gloved fist slammed on the polished ebony desk top, reflecting a washed out yellow from the candle's poor lighting. Blood red ink spilled, meeting the pristine white of his glove, and seeping into the grain of the table. His teeth ground at what they made him do. The Imbeciles!

What a sound, what a retched and insufferable noise. Hers, her laughter was like creme, sweet and smooth, but his... the damned boys presence soured everything. Infuriated, Erik rose from his seat, his hands coming to fold behind his back as he began to pace anxiously. What were they doing in there? What act were they playing that would cause such a sound? His mind flew with images, ideas that raced through his imagination, each one worse than the next. What on Earth was going on?

Curiosity, certainly one of the strongest emotions, over came him. He had to know what they were enjoying. He was their host, their master. It was his right to know... wasn't it? Besides, they might be planning their escape, or worse, mocking him. The rage seethed back through his body. He needed to know, but how?

On silent feet, he crept from his room through the halls, needing no guiding light other than that of their door. In short time he stopped within the shadows of the door, waiting with baited breath, listening.

Finally, the noise came again. "And what are you planning to do with that?" Raylan's sweet voice chimed up in light surprise, followed shortly by a muffled giggle.

Almost instantly a deeper chuckle trailed her voice, a curiously playful reply of, "You'll see..."

Again the suspicious laughter echoed through the great alcove, slithering across the cold stone and rippling over the lake. Nothing followed this great laughter, several agonizingly long moments of utter silence the only thing that filled the pause between.

So quiet, it was almost like a tomb again, and then again her voice rang, clear as a bell squealing gleefully, "Oh, you're mine now!"

Ideas cursed Erik's mind once more, these even more shocking than the prior thoughts. God, what were they doing? He had to find out. But how? He couldn't just barge in. That would most certainly destroy her trust in him, but curiosity and rage stabbed at his insides like poisoned needles. Curse him, was all he could muster, his teeth grinding in frustration, curse his foolishness for letting that insolent boy stay here!

More laughter silenced Erik's thoughts, low and sultry giggles and then there came a loud, surprised female yelp. Ethan's voice followed roughly, "Oh yes, that's how I thought you'd react."

"Good Lord, I didn't see that coming," Raylan said, her voice at first sounding perplexed and then she continued playfully, "But don't prepare your thrown yet cowboy. I got a few surprises of my own."

_What! _The Phantom was mystified by the sounds being emitted through the door. What was going on in there? Now, was the time to find out. But how? What was a good enough excuse to enter? He stared into the flame of a nearby candle, while he thought. Then it came to him. _Candles! Of course. _

On cat's feet he deftly walked through his halls, gathering spare candles. Erik had only been capable of finding two unused ones is such short notice, but it would have to do. Then he returned, pausing before her door and taking a deep breath. He didn't allow his foot falls to become audible, or anything to announce his arrival. He wanted to catch them in the treacherous act, to see the betrayal for himself. His black leather gloved fist curtly rapped upon the door. There would be no more secrets between them. He had made that clear. 'Quoth the raven "nevermore". And there wouldn't be.

And there they were, the two of them, seated upon the bed he had arranged for her just as he thought he would find them as he swiftly swung the door open. Their prudent giggles came to an instant halt, the awkward silence he had been expecting settling heavily over the room, but things were not as he would have guessed.

Ethan sat with his back to the Phantom, his body crouched and tense but still covering almost all view of Raylan. The odd thing though was that there was no sign of what he was expecting about the boy. Ethan was fully clad, his hair neatly brushed and free of signs of rough housing, and although Erik had yet to see Raylan it was fairly obvious that he had made a terrible mistake.

This was confirmed when Raylan slipped from the bed, coming to stand in plain view, entirely clothed and still fresh looking. Despite his entry, she still smiled at him as if his presence were a pleasant surprise. Ethan shortly followed her example, moving from the bed to stand opposite of Raylan. Upon the bed was the cause of their noise, something far from what he had expected. Upon the bed sat a small, portable board, mounted by old, carved chess pieces. A game of chess.

Erik froze, unsure of what to say, or do. Lord, how could he have let himself get so worked up? It was nothing, he should have known this, he should have rationalized, but no. Again his rage had gotten the best of him, and for what? Some insolent girl? Why fret, why fret over her? She was not Christine, she was not his Angel, so why had such thoughts angered him so? Look at where it had gotten him, standing there, looking like an idiot appearing in such a manner. What to do now?

Then he remembered his hands. _Oh yes, I had forgotten._ After a few stutters, the words came out, and his hands appeared with two candles cradled in his palms, "I-I brought extra candles."

Raylan paused, looking at him curiously and then about her already well lit room. She ignored questioning this though and smiled, offering her hand out to receive the sticks. "Thank you, that's very kind of you," She said softly.

He handed her the red candles, and dipped a nod in return, "You're welcome."

Again that moment of awkwardness fell upon them, but it was quickly interrupted as Ethan began to clear his throat. "Get curious huh?" Ethan questioned, his tone cocky and mocking.

Erik's eyes fastened upon him, the idiot. Yes, it was a mistake that he let that-that thing intrude upon his space... but it was a correctable mistake. His tone was cold to him as he replied, "I'd rather not leave her in the dark." With that Erik spun, his cloak twirling around him. He left, disappearing into the darkness of the basement in his usual unexplainable nature.

One gone, Ethan scoffed aloud, watching as Raylan closed the door. "Yes," He mocked bitterly, "He's just as you said... one real dignified and respectful guy. Phfft, I don't know what you see in him."

"I think he's a gentlemen," Raylan grinned, stroking the candles fondly with her index finger, "Very considerate."

"Oh yes," He rolled his eyes, "Such a polite man."

Raylan frowned, shooting in their host's defense, "Much more than you ever were."

Ethan simply rolled his eyes, "Sure, keep telling yourself that. Oh well, enough about him. Let's finish the game. You're King is mine."

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The following afternoon the Patron stormed into Vits shop outraged, slamming through the doors, practically frothing at the mouth.

"How dare you?" He screamed, "How dare you! You filthy, little, thankless, uncultured, lout! How could you? Do you know what she's threatening? Do you! She's threatening to walk out! And take half the cast with her!" He screamed his voice shrill like a little girl.

Vits leapt to her feet as her men stopped their repairs upon the set: a few necessary changes. She leaned gingerly upon her injured knee testing her weight. Her tone was cold frost upon the window of her soul.

"When she treats me with respect, I shall return it," Her sea green eyes focused upon him, daring him to cross her.

Surprisingly he advanced, shaking his finger threateningly. "We had an agreement!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, "We had an agreement! You can't go back on it! I will tel-"

Vits narrowed her eyes, a throaty growl rumbled through her, cutting him off. "No, I made an agreement to do as you said. You have not specified any grounds yet. I am at liberty to do as I please," She curtly reminded him of the exact limitations of their contract.

The words rang though the deafened room, shock registered upon the faces of her companions. Her words startled Claude Burke; he had hoped that they would be an easy way to keep her in check. She was well experienced at dodging orders and rules; he would have to be extremely explicit with her.

"Well! From now on, I expect you make pleasant with your mother. She is a guest here and sacrifices must be made," He settled with a long glare for a warning prior to turning on his heel and leaving.

Vits men stared at their leader, all watching with baited breath as she sunk into the chair, her shield crumbling. Dres was the first to walk forward, leaning against the desk as he tried to appear casual. In all his days of knowing her, he had never expected this. Ever. His voice was gentle and soft, a father concerned for his adopted daughter, "What's wrong lass?"

She looked at him, a pitiful child lost in a high sea. Her gaze shifted to the men that gathered around. They knew her best. She had to give them an answer. They deserved it. But what? She sighed, swallowing.

"I made an agreement, I'm to do as he says. I have been forbidden to tell," She spoke hesitantly brokenly piecing her words together. "I must protect-" She stopped herself. That had slipped out, she hadn't meant to say that.

One of the men asked quietly, "Raylan, you mean?"

She flashed him a look of surprise, providing the answer.

The man continued lightly, "You were very close to her. Rightfully so, she was always nice to us. You don't let just anyone live with you. Besides, her brother helped deliver my son... of all people you would put your dignity on the line for, I'd hope it to be them."

Vits looked at them sadly with a small nod. She couldn't hide it from them, she couldn't hide it from herself, and she wondered just how long it would be until everyone knew. How long would they have before things got worse, again?

**Thanks everyone, and don't forget to leave a review on your way out. Ciao for now,**

**-Olivia N.**


	20. Doomed Dreams

**Hey everyone! This will be a short talk before we get to the story. Sorry I've been gone. Midterms and band competitions have eaten my life away for the past few weeks. No worries though, I will make certain to get updates up, no matter what. Alright, so on to the responses.**

**A Few Thanks**

**Juilette Delphe: Silly Sumner, your parties must be monitored and controlled by law enforcement... they apparently get vicious. **

**TheAngel'sMaggie: Ha, thanks! Smiled from ear to ear when I read your review. Not much to it, but certainly got the point across, and sounds like something I would say so high fives for that. Your awesome.**

**surf with music: Glad you liked the Erik, chess thing. Had almost too much fun writing that scene. Grand champion? Wow, major congrats! That is completely awesome. Yea, one's are like your Box Five's (ha, special meaning much?). But sooo much congratulations on your winnings, that is unbelievably awesome.**

**shimmeringtears: Ha! Like that did you? I seriously loved that scene, I mean I love all my chapters, but Summy and I especially loved that one. I liked bestowing jealousy and curiosity in Erik, it was just flat out fun. I'm extremely happy that you enjoyed it. How are you doing? Well I hope? I hope the year isn't eating your life away anymore. If it is...best it with a stick... or a wooden spoon works well too. And just for the extra comfort...take this Erik --hands shimmeringtears a very confused Erik-- He's still a little bedazzled from the last scene, he'll get over it in a bit. **

**Lol, ok yall, let's get back to that long awaited update shall we? Thanks everyone who took the time to read this story and review.**

**-Olivia N.**

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A week. She assumed it had been that long. One entire week since their dreaded crossing into his world, their passage into _his_ kingdom of darkness. She had despised it so then, the whole ordeal, and so had he, but both had known there was no other choice. It was a bold move really, a dangerous decision, almost as perilous as the fate they would have faced if discovered. Leaving the threatening eyes of society for the hostile world of a Ghost- oh how they had expected the same dismal fate, and yet...

This Ghost. This man of tricks and puzzles. This master of music. This mere mortal who could harness the very darkness of night and bend it to his will. This mysterious Phantom... was nothing like what her nightmares conjured. She remembered, she had entered his world expecting every torment in Hell, every bitter hatred and pain that evil could create. True, he was short tempered and controlling, a secretive man who would rather keep to himself than crawl to company, but to her, if the moment were right, he would show a different side.

Not to Ethan of course, the gentle Phantom she had begun to see would always greet Ethan with the utmost bitterness and sarcasm he could muster. Not to say Ethan wasn't also at fault. He too made no attempt to befriend their host, and from the moment the two of them entered the same room there was constantly some subliminal war lashing out between them.

Over the week, Raylan had entered the foyer at least twice a day to settle some dispute between Ethan and their host, disputes that Raylan had no doubt Ethan had caused. Usually the fight ended with Raylan dragging Ethan by the neck out of the alcove, making certain to halt the argument before it lead to anything physical. At times Raylan had considered allowing the two men to thrash one another about, but her better judgment chose otherwise. It wasn't that she doubted Ethan's strength; she knew the boy was a burly opponent, but she also knew that he somewhat lacked in skill. No amount of brute force could win against sheer skill and wit, not in this case at least. Ethan had reckless strength, while the Phantom had controlled power, remarkable skills, and deadly accuracy. Least to say, she had no doubts that if physical war were to spark between the two she would lose the very man she had been trying to protect for so many years.

So for a week she played two very different roles, the role of Ethan's protector and the role of Erik's probable friend. They were two contrasting parts, roles that often over the week had both men doubting her loyalty to them, of which she had to prove her devotion time and time again. It was a tiresome game they played, but what other choice was there? Raylan was certainly not willing to choose between the two, or lose either of them. One was a long time companion, and the other was becoming more cherished by the day. Her men: her stubborn convict and her unyielding ghost. There was no choosing between them.

Tonight though she gladly played one part. With Ethan having gone to mope in his room after the latest battle, Raylan remained in the company of her newest comrade, the two willingly continuing their exploration of each others character. It was always the same routine. Erik would be at his magnificent organ, playing his beautifully tragic tunes for hours on end until she came to his side. Raylan would always come to rest in that same stiff chair by the organ, waiting patiently until his song came to its haunting finish and he acknowledged her. From there they began their gentle attempt at bonding, both tenderly but eagerly trying to learn everything they could about the other.

They were treasured moments to Raylan, the chances he allowed her to see more than just the walking dead, moments she clung to for fear of never seeing that side of him again. She did though. Each time she opened up her soul to him, and each time he would grant her a small glance into his.

"Alright, new question. What do you prefer: blonds, brunettes, or reds?" Raylan chuckled at her own question, a bad habit of finding herself amusing even if she made the lamest of jokes.

"Physical attributes mean little to me," Erik responded in his always serious but thoughtful manner, "It matters not what color of hair or skin a woman holds, but more so the characteristics of her personality."

Raylan nodded, a small sigh of satisfaction as she rested her head against the back of the chair. "Alright, your turn," She said, closing her eyes momentarily as she waited for his question.

His response came quicker than she had expected, obviously a question he had mulled over asking for some time and finally decided to go ahead with it. "What are your dreams?" His voice was strongly curious.

Raylan's eyes bolted open in surprise, quickly returning to his gaze, full of question. She cocked her head to one side and looked at him funny, "My dreams? Ha, Erik, don't you think it to be a little soon for us to be sharing our hopes and dreams?"

"Too soon? Too soon to recognize your dreams?" Surprisingly Erik flared with a sudden burst of passion over the subject, "What's the matter with admitting your dreams? Are you scared Raylan? Frightened to think of anything else than this life on the run? Are you afraid to hope for something more? Scared to form a dream, and fear that it might never come true?"

Raylan looked shocked for only a moment, becoming used to his rapid temper changes, and then scoffed lightly. "Scared? I'm not scared," She said, playing the tough one again, "I'm cautious, and can be fairly pessimistic... but not scared."

Erik simply gave her a knowing look and returned to face his organ, diving gently into another tune, patiently waiting until she were ready to admit. This time the music had a feel of fear and questioning of what lurker beyond the next bend. Both knew he was only further trying to persuade her to answer.

Raylan placed her elbows on the arm rest, balling her fist and resting her chin atop them. In silence she watched him, searching for the hidden meaning behind is magical music. The silence lasted for as long as she could stand, and then she said with a groan, "Alright, you win. Lord, I don't know why my dreams would interest you. Their foolish, childish dreams of fame and love, and things I know are most certainly denied to me now. Their unreachable, I suppose would be the best word to describe them. I'm not scared of them, I just know I can't have them... so I suppose I figure it's better to just... ignore them."

Erik paused his music, facing her once more to put in his constant words of wisdom, "You can ignore your dreams, but they won't ignore you. You can not run from them, especially if you believe they can bring you greater things."

Raylan laughed bitterly and rolled her eyes. "Great things," She repeated doubtfully, "Right. Erik, great things are not meant for sinners, it just doesn't work that way."

"Your life is what you make of it. Nothing more," His tone was unyielding steel, reminding her that it was her responsibility to live out her dreams and no one could change it.

Raylan shrugged, "True... I suppose." Again the silence lay, and then suddenly her voice chirped curiously, "So what about you? What are your dreams?"

"There are many things I desire..." A wistful smile crossed Erik's face as he looked in the distance, "But to satisfy your curiosity, I will admit one thing. I do wish to leave here, and to travel once more."

"So do it," She said it simply as if there was no question to it, "What's keeping you from just up and going?"

"The same thing that keeps me imprisoned here," Erik frowned, the hopeful look in his eyes vanishing once again into the cold.

Raylan looked at him questioningly, "And that would be?"

It was almost frightening how quickly his gaze went from dormant to feverishly mad, laying viciously upon her as if her intended to strike her. It should've been obvious to her what kept him locked down here, what horror prevented him from seeing the outside world. What retched attributes fate had given him that kept the outside world from accepting him. His voice boom like thunder, and his hand flew to point at the unfeeling covering upon his face, "What lies behind this mask!"

Raylan froze, her mind screaming at her viciously, _Stupid, stupid girl. _Of course it was that, how daft was she not to figure it would be some physical quality. Lord, he would be terribly mad at her now... she could tell. "Oh," Raylan muttered, cautiously trying to pick her words right, "Forgive me Monsieur, I'm beginning to grow accustom to this... mask. I did not even think that to be a problem... my apologies."

Just as rapidly as before his emotions changed, his eyes softening at her words. Accustom to his monstrosity, did she truly say that? Gently his hand reached up and felt the mask, as if he were just feeling it for the first time. Could she truly look past his curse? "Thank you," His words were quiet and soft, a gentle appreciation and lack of a good response.

She offered him a soft smile, then continued on gently back to the initial conversation, "So, if you could, where would you like to go? I', certain you've been a few places already, it kind of shows, and I know you wish to see America, but any place else? Any place of particular interest?"

He looked at her tenderly. "All I want is to be free," His answer was short before he turned the tables once more, "What do you want?"

Raylan smirked, "You really don't like talking about yourself do you?" She didn't give him time to answer, instead she shrugged and went on, "Alright, well, to tell you the truth I have always wanted to go to Greece. My ancestors hail from there, and I would very much like to see the beauty of the land they left. I have heard of it's crystals seas, it's peaceful hillsides and small, wholesome towns. I'd love to build a home there one day, on the island called Cephalonia, the island my ancestors came from... someplace where you can see the ocean... someplace of peace..." She fell silent to think a little longer on what else she would consider telling him.

Erik listened, choosing to ignore her first comment. "Sounds interesting. Would you take that-" He stopped himself from calling Ethan a name for the sake of her fondness for the boy, "Would you take _him_ with you?"

Raylan laughed, "Oh, I don't know... he isn't so bad when you get used to him... but... I don't know. We've been counting on each other for so long... but personally I am hoping for a day when we can both live again, be capable of starting new, separate lives, only having to come to each other when necessary, or if we miss each other terribly."

Erik nodded, going silent for a moment to absorb her words and then questioned rather bluntly, "Is he what you're looking for?"

Raylan's brows narrowed with confusion, "What I am looking for? What do you mean?"

Erik replied as if it were a simple question,"Does he hold the characteristics you're looking for in a husband?"

"What?" Raylan gasped, completely taken back by the question, "Ethan? A husband? My husband? Oh Lord, no, no, no, no. Um, no, that certainly will not be happening."

Erik leaned foreword, resting his elbows on his knees, truly interested, "Oh? Then what are you looking for?"

"Someone certainly not like Ethan. Now don't get me wrong, I love the boy. He's just like a brother to me, but husband... oh Lord no. I would most certainly throw myself off a cliff if I was wed to Ethan," A sly grin then went across Raylan's lips, "Why so curious?"

Erik glanced away, at the keys of his organ, trying to think of something. After a moments contemplation he replied cleverly, "You can tell a lot about a person by knowing what they're looking for."

Raylan grinned, "Hmm, I suppose that's true." She paused to laugh, a giggle mixed with slight discomfort and humor. For sometime she sat just laughing, then very suddenly she fell silent, as if mulling a difficult decision around in her head. Finally after endless minutes of dead silence she sighed, and looking up to him said with a slight smile, "Alright, you really want to know? You want to know what I am looking for... in a man?"

He nodded, his hands twitching eagerly together, "If you're willing."

Raylan nodded, "Very well." She paused only then to lean back and get comfortable, turning her eyes from him to the ceiling as she thought out loud, "I want... well, first of all, you have to understand that I was raised to be a very independent woman, and just between you and I, I believe that has turned me into... a... well a bit of a control addict. Nearly in every relationship I have been in I have been with men who became entirely submissive to me, and although at times that can be a desirable trait, it's not so much for me. I... how can I put this?

"I want someone who is not afraid to speak their mind, to have an opinion, but at the same time someone who allows me to have one too, equally. I don't like being controlled, and I don't like controlling people, so if I could find a middle ground, someone who is willing to compromise... that'd be nice." She paused again, to further think it over.

Again she sighed, and smiling once more continued, "And then there are the usual things. I want someone intelligent, smarter than me is fine, just as long as they don't look down on me just cause I'm no genius. I would prefer if they could see the humor in things, had an appreciation for art, were strong enough to protect me, gentle enough so they would never hurt me, and... well... this last bit will probably sound silly. Ethan always just thought I was being overly dramatic, but I know you see. I know after so many years of shutting myself inside... after trying so hard to bring myself out of this shell and being unable to do so... I...

"I need someone... out of the ordinary... someone so unbelievable that just being about them can make me... make me feel again. You see, I murdered my emotions years ago, doing it so I wouldn't feel the pain, and so much time has gone by like this, that all I seem to feel is pain... loneliness... regret... and no matter how hard I try, I can't love... anything." Her voice fell off, catching in her throat as the pain boiled forward again. As normal, she pushed it away, forcing herself to smile as she added on with light humor, "Other than that, my only physical preferences is good hygiene and good teeth... and I would prefer for that person to be taller than me, but it's not needed... but I really can't stand a lover who smells or who's teeth look like they are about to fall out of their head."

Erik of course caught her pain, and watched her silently struggle with it. He wanted to take her hand, and tell her it was okay. But no, she was not Christine, his angel. He should not have these feelings for her, this want to... to help her? He refused to. Erik offered a small smile once his own internal battle calmed down, "Sounds perfectly reasonable."

"So," Raylan said after one more moment of silence. She returned her eyes to his, smiling playfully as she asked, "Think I got a chance of getting anything I wish for?"

Erik shrugged, "Depends on if you live your dreams."

Raylan frowned, "Guess that's a no huh? It's alright... I wasn't expecting to be able to find happiness... not again."

There was no time for him to react for just as her words ended, the strong tenor of her companions chimed up. "Uh, hope I'm not interrupting anything," Ethan's voice echoed across the alcove, "My...my um... my candles died."

Irritation crossed the Phantom's face, hatred swelling in his eyes. He spat without looking at the retched boy, "There are some more in the kitchen. But I suggest that you don't waste those to."

Ethan practically snarled, "I wouldn't need to if you had provided me with more than two candles." He irritated waved the stubs of wax towards Erik's vicious gaze.

Immediately tension shot up between the two, and like usual Raylan jumped in to ease it. "You know what," She said, rising from her seat smoothly, "It's getting late. I really should be going to bed... we all should." She looked pointedly at Ethan, who frowned in response.

It was then that she did the most unexpected thing, growing close to Erik and placing a tender, comforting hand upon his shoulder. Her voice was gentle and warming as she softly said, "Goodnight Erik." She then very smoothly stepped away, heading for her room, and only pausing at her door to look warningly at Ethan.

"You," She said, literally pointing towards Ethan, "Behave." And with that she returned to the confines of her room.

Erik smiled as she left, his eyes lingering upon her image until she was gone from all sight. It was then that his eyes snapped towards the rude intruder and he replied with a hiss, "You shouldn't leave them burning constantly."

Ethan growled, "Well excuse me, some of us normal people, you know, one's who have decided to visit the daylight occasionally, have a rather hard time seeing in the pitch black. I am not an owl Monsieur, I'm afraid I lack in the ability to see in the dark."

"It is not my fault that you are inferior," He responded coldly but in the same annoyingly calm tone.

"Inferior?" Ethan spat bitterly, easily loosing his temper, "Well you know what, it's not my fault I'm not a freak who's hid in the cellars of a shabby Opera House, alone in the dark for years to be able to gain that ability."

"I have always had this ability. And you are treading upon dangerous grounds," The Phantom of the Opera warned, his hands disappearing beneath his cloak

Ethan smirked viciously, "Oh, what are you going to do? Hurt me, bludgeon me, kill me? Oh yes, because she'd certainly want to stay with you after you murdered her only companion. Sorry sir, but she isn't that forgiving."

"That's if she finds the body,"

"She'd know. You could hide it, plant all the evidence you want, give all the excuses... she'd still know. You don't know her well enough to know that though, do you? She's smarter than most people can know, and one thing I have learned from spending so many years with her, is no matter how well you hide it, she will always discover the truth,"

Erik shrugged nonchalantly, skillfully disguising any hint that could verify the boys assumptions, "She's just another person."

"Funny," Ethan laughed smoothly, "You don't look at her as if she were just another person."

"She provides intelligent conversation. Nothing more," Erik growled, becoming even more irritated with every words Ethan spat, "However that is a great deal more than you provide"

Ethan scoffed, "Just intelligent conversation huh? Ha, I still can't believe she thinks you to be considerate, a gentlemen my ass. Listen Phantom, I don't give a damn what you think of me, but I swear... if you hurt her, in any way what so ever, I will not hesitate to kill scum like you. You... you don't deserve her friendship."

Erik smirked, his doubt in the boys abilities clearly showing, "You wouldn't be the first to attempt to take my life. It'd be your last failure in your pathetic life."  
"Think what you may sir," Ethan hissed, "But I am serious Phantom... leave her alone. She's more amazing than you could ever imagine, and I warn you, if intelligent conversation is all you will ever think of her, than just leave her be." With that he dropped the candle buds and turned on his heel, storming back into the black corridor that lead to his even darker room.

Erik sank onto his bench once the boy vanished, staring at the ivory keys of his magnificent organ. His muscles were tense with anger, his face flushed and his stomach tight with irritation. The insufferable boy's words played over in his mind like a broken record, repeating bitterly, _if intelligent conversation is all you will ever think of her, than just leave her be. _Of course that was all she was, what more could that loathsome boy expect? Intelligent conversation was all she would be, and not by his choice but her own. She could be no more to him than conversation... unless by chance... but no! _Don't think like that. It is a fools wish, a doomed dream_. He had gone with that foolish wish once before, and what good did it do him? To rebuild a shattered heart only to have it broken once more. _Never again, never again. _His dear Raylan, such a sweet girl could only be mere conversation...for even the kindest of women could not befriend... would not love a monster.

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**Alright everyone, thanks for reading and reviewing if you do. Hugs for all and I will be back with an update as soon as possible. Ciao for now,**

**-Olivia N.**


	21. The Hall Of Mirrors

**Virus's are a bitch. Flat out saying that. Murphy's Law likes to get me too, so it is literally no surprise that about a week ago when I was all ready to post this, my computer got a virus and wouldn't let me on the internet. But no worries, I got it all cleared up and now my computer is back to it's slow, dial up lagging self. Poor baby needs more memory, and a faster internet connection, and a stronger fire wall, and a bunch of other little things, but I'll eventually get it worked out. Sorry for the LONG wait, it was kind of out of my hands.**

**A Few Thanks:**

**TheAngel'sMaggie:  In the words of Sumner Bain (our dear Vitusia) "Well Effing GOOD!" Ha. Unbelievably glad that you like our story...we hope to keep it as exciting as possible. And glad you like Raylan and can relate to her. She is mostly based off of Olivia... which is scary... but it is awesome that others can relate. Stubborn people rule all! We'll try to update faster next time!**

**Juilette Delphe: Stop pissing the Phantom off? SUMNER! How could you say such a thing? If Ethan stopped pissing the Phantom off... well then where would we find the comic relief... or driving annoyance, either way you like to look at it.**

**solitarebbw218: We can't hardly wait either for the interaction between them to increase. It'll happen, although I can't really say when. The characters more lead me than I leading them. Thanks for the compliment so very much!**

**surf with music: Band is... is... is... OVER! --falls into an abnormal amount of tears and sobs uncontrollably-- Oh God I miss band so incredibly much, and this was my LAST year, and I'll never be in Marching Band again... NEVER! --begins crying uncontrollably again and then very rapidly pulls herself together and chokes back tears-- Ok, I'm good now. Glad you liked the chapter a whole bunches. Yea, and you and I both can't wait till the time he realizes, but the trick is getting both of them to realize, cause both are stubborn and unbelievably guarded. What a pair huh?**

**Alright, well here is the long awaited update, and I am sorry it took so long. Virus's suck, but they can be beat into submission. Hoping to be back with an update soon. Later and hugs,**

**-Olivia N.**

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"Gentlemen, my ass," Ethan muttered as he shuffled blindly through the black hall, his hands shoved deep within his pockets, restraining him from ripping anything he could find apart. The nerve, the audacity, the scum. That arrogant, lowly bastard, he didn't even deserve a quarter of her affections. And poor Raylan, she didn't even realize that her friendship was being wasted on this monster, this loathsome ghost.

Ethan cursed into the dark, his voice a low, venomous hiss of uncultured words. How could any man think of such a generous girl to be practically meaningless? Raylan was kind to him, offering companionship to the most despicable man on earth, and still throughout this ghosts need he found her to be mere entertainment. What nerve! How could she even begin to trust such a man? How could she even think such a creature was capable of human compassion?

Somehow in his rage Ethan's hands had escaped his pockets and began their rampage. They struck out in fury against the black walls, acting with a mind of their own as the rage blinded all thought. They drove into the dark, pounding against the black stone, against the enemies he could not see. With each strike came a flat, sharp pound, the sound of tender flesh riding against solid material. This sound somehow made the moment even more unpleasing for Ethan.

In a moment of such mounting anger, there is a certain amount of relief that comes over a person if they get the chance to break something. The view of something shattering into pieces, the sound of that object being torn apart by cheer force, it causes an unusual release in a person, and any other thing seems to take the opposite effect. As anyone could imagine, with every smack Ethan became more enraged and unsatisfied. So he continued his attacks, shuffling further through the tunnel as he pounded, blindly searching for something to take his anger out on.

His search finally came to a screeching halt when his ears caught a rather unusual sound. Throughout his search the thudding of his fists had been firm and short, but suddenly in the mist of that dark he came upon a portion of the cave wall that when smacked rang with the echo of something hollow. It was almost odd how quickly his curiosity overcame his fury, but the noise had drawn his attention like a moth to a flame. His fist froze against the wall, holding there for as long as the echo sounded before diminishing into nothing but silence.

Hollow? Ethan's mind cleared, his senses returning with an intense curiosity. His fist gave a slight tap against the wall to be sure, and as expected a small echo rang once more before falling into nothing. It was a certainty now, this portion of the cave was not as ordinary as expected. Something lie on the other side, and this wall, this darkness was merely a disguise.

With a new found interest, Ethan's hands began to grope the cave about him, searching eagerly for some kind of handle, or lever, or something to allow access to the other side. Feverishly he searched, and yet seemed to come upon nothing but solid, freezing wall. A frustrated growl escaped Ethan's clenched lips as his hands ran from the bottom of the floor to the ceiling and seemed to find nothing. Again anger began to build and with a new mounting rage, Ethan's fist came down hard upon an upper portion of the wall... only when his fists collided, he felt a small difference. A tiny portion of that wall, no bigger than the tip of a pinky finger, pressed down like a button into the solid rock and with it the hollow wall swung rapidly open to display another dark corridor.

Ethan wasted no time. He put his hands out in front of him and entered the separate hall, using the mere sense of touch to navigate through the black world. It was warmer in this darkness, hotter than the icy world of the Phantom, and it increased the further he went. Ethan didn't put much thought on this though for his mind was distracted by something far more interesting. The tunnel was long and winding, gradually drifting up towards the surface of this night realm, but oddly he soon came upon a flat road, and down this way his eyes caught the faint glimmer of light passing through what seemed to resemble doorways.

"Where am I?" He asked to the dark, cautiously edging towards the lit doorways.

Closer he drew, until the hall itself was almost entirely free of the dark, the light gleaming from the other side of those doorways chasing away the shadows. Oh light, lord it seemed so long since he had seen so much light. For the first time in his life he had to squint to keep his night adjusting eyes from hurting, but it felt glorious seeing light again- light of any kind.

Ethan reached for it, his hands needing to feel the warmth of day, his cold skin yearning for the comfort of the sun... but his hands... they grasped no warmth in this light. He pulled his hands back to him in surprise, taking a step closer to further examine this light. Light indeed it was, but it was not coming from a doorway of any kind... and it was not the sun light he had been hoping for. This light was candle light, the yellow glow from tiny fires in opposite rooms, quarters to be exact, located on the other side of this...

One hand reached out to feel whatever barrier stood in his way, and immediately felt the chill of something solid, something like...

"Glass?" He heard his voice shudder in surprise. What was this? A glass wall? What tricks were these? If it was just glass, then why had no one ever seen these passages, or found their way to this ghost? They couldn't all be complete imbeciles. Well, maybe...

On the other side of the mirror something stirred, and Ethan instantly froze, every muscle tensing up. Oh God, he would be seen! Across the room, a person rose from a rather large, lounging chair, a woman he did not recognize. She was flamboyantly clad, in a night gown of the finest fabrics, and her hair a disgustingly flashy red done in a tight braid on one side of her head. Her face was overly done up, and in her arms she held two scrawny, horrid poodles.

She yawned dramatically, and after glancing about her room with boredom, her eyes came to settle on him. A lump of dread formed in Ethan's throat as she approached the glass, his mind screaming with terror. _Oh God! Oh God! She can see me! She knows I'm here! Oh God! Oh God! She'll know now! She'll know that we are still here! Oh God! She'll tell! They'll find us now! Oh God! Raylan I'm sorry! God, Raylan, I'm so sorry!_

The woman stood right before him now, staring straight through the glass at him. The most smug grin crossed her face, leaving Ethan with no doubt. He had been caught. She would tell, and the police would find them, and then... _Oh Raylan... may God have mercy on your soul_. The woman's lips parted, and Ethan flinched, waiting for those dooming words that signaled their end... and then... out from the gap in her head came the most obnoxious form of singing he had ever heard, a combination of a lost talent and a duck like squawking.

"What the hell!" Ethan shouted, his hands rushing to cover his ears and his teeth gritting in pain. What cruel and unusual punishment was this?

The most gruesome look of disgust crossed Ethan's face, and even then the woman's screech continued. Dear God, she sounded like a parrot! Ethan shouted through her squeal, "Madame! Madame please! This is not necessary! I'll come quietly! I'll give myself in! But my accomplice I can not give you. She is gone, fled the country a week ago, so for the love of God, quit your squawking!"

Still the woman continued, and Ethan flinched as she attempted to take it up an octave. Thankfully, her voice could not control the note and her song died off in a horrible cough. The beast cleared her throat and began to curse in some terribly ugly Spanish that she squeaked nearly as terribly as her singing. She turned away from him then, facing a side table and picking up a rather large bottle of something of which she sprayed into her throat. Again she cleared her throat, following it with a few short notes before returning to her image.

Strangely, the woman still did not acknowledge his presence, leaning in towards the glass and using her fingers to pull at the bags that were beginning to form beneath her eyes. Again she muttered something in squeaking Spanish, and with a huff of frustration spun away from the glass and disappeared into an opposite room.

Ethan stared perplexed at the woman's fleeting image. Oddly, he waited for her to return, waiting for her to enter with the police trailing at her heels. To his surprise, the woman did not return, and again Ethan cautiously approached the glass. Why had she acted like that? So strangely, going on with some normal routine even while knowing he was watching. She had known, right? And why had she pulled at her skin that way? Had she expected him to comment on her forming wrinkles? Or maybe... she had been examining... herself.

Of course! Why didn't he see it before? The Phantom had access to these corridors, he wouldn't want anyone to see him, and yet his prying nature would want to know everything. Ethan had heard something of one way mirrors in his travels, from an old Englishmenwhen he and Raylan had retreated to Britain a year ago. An ingenious creation really, and a perfect trick for the Opera Ghost.

Finally after convincing himself that he was safe, Ethan moved on down this hidden corridor, mildly glancing through the several mirrors into other rooms as he passed. For some time he passed only rooms of extravagant color and expensive adorn, bright and flaunting their wealth. These were the upper class performers quarters, her came to conclude, the prima donna's and the fame seekers, the very essence of high class snobbery.

Past that he came upon lesser expense, dancers dormitories and chorus dressing rooms, a sure example of lesser wealth but a more natural life style that Ethan preferred. Beyond that came the seamstresses rooms, the musicians quarters and writers offices. Ethan skipped on past these with little interest in their life style, not caring for the lessers who tried to raise their miserable self-esteem by pretending to be of greater importance.

Besides, he had no time to dally on them. Lord knows how long he would have before their dear Ghost realized he was gone, and if Ethan's assumptions were right, he had something terribly important to do before then.

So Ethan continued down the corridor, his steps as silent as his feet could carry him, although he was fully aware that no one but the dark could hear him pass. He traveled through this snaking web of mirrors, searching for the right one while marveling at the genius of such a trick. These corridors could break all the barriers of secrecy, allowing the user access into everyone's lives that they assumed to be so safe within their own privacy. The Phantom was a clever little spy, Ethan would give him that much, a clever man indeed. No wonder really... Raylan only fancied clever men.

"Raylan," He sighed as his mind drifted back to the prior nights, "I'm losing you to a master of tricks. A man of lies and many secrets... which can never end well."

In his thought Ethan nearly missed his goal, but thankfully he caught a fleeting glimpse of the one he had been looking for and came to a screeching halt. He backed up a few steps and came to rest before one mirror, a single candle light barely shimmering in the tiny room on the other side. It was enough light though, just enough for him to see those vibrant eyes that made him go weak in the knees. His dear Vitusia's eyes...

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Vits sat in her hammock, in her room, behind the sail curtain. One foot steadied her, while the other injured leg was out straight. She was rewrapping it before she went to sleep, but she had only lit a single candle so seeing was difficult. Bags of ice from the kitchen lay on the floor, melting slowly and forming an icy puddle on the floor.

Vits growled in frustration as she tried to wrap her leg. It was still the size of a grapefruit, and it hurt even when she kept it utterly still. She had been using it more than she should though. But she couldn't keep still... and manage to hide everything at the same time. Now, the wrap wouldn't sit right, and it was irritating her. Irritating her more than such a simple thing should... and she knew exactly why.

Part of her greatly missed Raylan, someone to help her, some one who was there. An even grater part of her missed Ethan... that ridiculous country boy. Vits shook her head, _no_, now it wasn't the time to get sentimental. She couldn't, not after he lied to her. Not after she told him everything, things she hadn't told another soul.

Vits sighed, pausing. _No_, it wasn't fair for her to be mad at him. He had no choice. It wasn't him. The Patron had been abusing his new power over her. After closing night of _Midsummer Night Dream_, she was to attend rehearsals in the day and do the set at night. She didn't know if she could handle that, but she couldn't say no. She had made her promise. It wasn't right for her to take her anger against the Patron out on Ethan. It wasn't fair for her to take her anger out on either of them... fate had been more unkind to them than anyone she knew, and now... now they were trapped in a never ending darkness. A place where night was God.

Vits stared off into space, gulping her tears down into the pit of her throat, and whispering with a barely steady voice, "I'm sorry... so sorry... for everything." _  
_

Suddenly from the shadows a voice came softly, a comfortingly curious tone saying clearly, "Sorry for what?"

Vits shook her head, swearing that she thought she heard his voice. "Impossible," She muttered to herself, "I must be going crazy."_  
_

"Well we already knew this," The voice whispered again, sounding closer this time, "Although, I'm rather certain that you aren't plummeting any deeper into the pit of insanity at the time being."

This was too much for Vits. She spun to face the voice, except, her leg got caught on the hammock, and wrenched her injured leg. "Ahh!" She cried out, and then forced herself to catch her balance. She stood, slowly, not resting weight on her injured leg. Her eyes shot viciously towards the voice, and then froze. She wasn't sure she believed what was in front of her. Her voice shook in disbelief, "What? How are you here?"

Ethan offered a hand to her to help her with her balance, a broad grin on his face. He first replied sarcastically with, "I'm an aspiration, can't you tell?" Again that sultry smile, and then he continued seriously with, "I discovered a passageway in our dear Phantom's prison. It lead me to you... God must finally like me."

Vits chuckled. It was him! Thank you God, she wasn't dreaming. He was here, with her, finally! A smile spread wide across her face and she replied with a laugh, "I always wondered what was behind that mirror."

He smiled, "It's a rather ingenious system really, took me the longest time to figure it out. See, there's a small, almost entirely camouflaged spring placed close to the wall. It's at his height, which is probably why you never found it, but when you press it, it activates the mirror to sweep open." He gestured towards the corner closest to the ceiling, quite a stretch for even an average sized man.

Vits followed his hand, "Makes sense. That is ingenious."

Ethan gave a soft meaningful groan, "Yes... I'll at least admit that he is a smart man... but that is the only good quality I have come to see."

Vits shrugged, "I just work for him."

Ethan nodded and muttered softly, "Lucky."

Vits brows narrowed with concern, and her eyes searched his face as she asked seriously, "Ethan... how are things down there? Are you doing alright? Is Raylan well? Is she still alive? _He_ isn't hurting either of you, is he? I can't bare the thought of you two being in pain, and I don't know how good a ghosts hospitality can be."

Ethan gave a small smile and placed a comforting hand against her warm, soft cheek. "We are both fine," He assured her with a gentle, truthful tone, "Although it is far too obvious that this Phantom greatly dislikes me. Raylan is safe, and in the favor of our host, but whether this will all end up good or bad for Raylan's mental state is yet to be seen. She's trying to get him to trust her, trying to protect me as she always does. I fear that she is growing fond of him."

Vits nodded, her mind thinking grimly back on the years of Christine Daae and that disaster, "It's not healthy to grow attached to someone as broken as the Phantom, it's not healthy for either of them."

Ethan nodded in agreement, "Both of them are broken, vulnerable in some ways... and trust is too easily shattered. I'm afraid he will trust her Vits, and come to discover something about her that he doesn't like, and feel betrayed. Lord knows what would happen then..."

"Something terrible," Vits answered for him, thinking back on that night not to long ago... that night she almost lost Raylan because of his childish rage, "You should warn Raylan to be careful."

"I have," He groaned, "But she's defiant, probably thinking she can change him or something. I've warned him as well, and all he's done in response is threaten my life."

"He rules this Opera, Ethan. The Phantom doesn't take kindly to someone telling him what to do, especially in his own lair," Her eyes connected instantly with his, trying to get across the full intention of her words, "You should also be careful around him... he's capable of far too much for you to play body guard." Ethan frowned, a clear sign that he did not agree, but Vits quickly changed the subject. Lord knew how long she would have with him before it became dangerous, and she was not going to waist that time on concerns about the Phantom, and things they couldn't change. "Come," She said, taking his hands in her own, "Let's speak of something else. Raylan is a stubborn girl, she can take care of herself."

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**Ohhhhhh, secret passageways- this could get interesting- in both good and bad ways. Stay tuned to find out what happens next- hehe we are about to kick it up a notch. Hope you enjoyed. Big hugs for all.**

**-Olivia N. **


	22. Seasons Change

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from Phantom Of The Opera- I only own original characters, and even those are questionable…hmmmm.**

**Lookie! I'm back! After how long? Wow, I think I have been gone for successfully two months…wow, I really didn't realize it was that long. Oh God, I am so sorry everyone! I apparently have no sense of time. Geez- I'm serious- that's bad. Ok, well, hopefully this makes up for it. **

**I have for you all here a very long post- very good and showing that things could be advancing in the near future- but still long. Hope you don't mind, just couldn't stop writing it. **

**A Few Thanks:**

**Juilette Delphe- Sumner, no breaking the mirrors or else there will be mass panic amongst the Opera house, which is no promising. Chandelier incident, remember? **

**Surf with music- I totally agree, it is time for more Erik and Raylan interaction, which is why you get this chapter and the upcoming one which I am not allowed to expose because then I'll ruin the surprise. As for marching band and the season- it was awesome, probably the best year I have had in marching band. Doing the electric slide on the opposing teams competition field was the highlight of my band career- oh, and we got to march in the Sugar Bowl (which is like the MAJOR football game in Georgia, which was awesome…but of course Georgia lost… one day I swear we will win big time…and the Braves will one day stop going limp and win the World Series). I still miss Marching band, but hey, I have a band class and am first chair clarinet so I'm content for now. So, what's up with you? Oh!**

**ALSO NOTE TO EVERYONE- THE NEW ATLANTA AQUARIUM (BIGGEST ONE IN USA RIGHT NOW) IS FLIPPING AMAZING! I HIGHLY RECOMMEND GOING! HIGHLY!**

**Phantomess Roselind-** **I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long, I'm sorry I kept everyone waiting, but it's hear now so it's ok. Deep breaths.**

**Alright, so, without further delay, now that I am back, here is the latest update. Enjoy, and thanks for sticking with me everyone! I appreciate the support! Enjoy!**

**-Olivia N.**

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The seasons continued their stately march during the past fortnight, bringing December and with it an unnatural chill to the Opera House, and worse to its watery world below. Christmas was dawning slowly, creeping closer, the taunting season of love and families comfort. Above, the Opera Populaire had transformed itself to the holiday's traditions, dusting away its usual gloom and horror to be replaced by trinkets of color and joy. It's golden and white walls were laced in strings of red and green, its doors adorn with wreaths and mistletoe, and an enormous tree had even been decorated and set up before the Grand Staircase to further the spirit. The Opera's dread had vanished in a blink of the seasons and now it burst into glorious life, all for the sake of this one special month. Yet below, in the utter depths of the Opera's stomach the world did not change. Christmas joys could not reach so deep into the Earth's core, and so despite the life above, the gloom retreated to its depths where it was not forgotten.

Erik sat, as usual, at his organ, the death like fingers ignoring the chill as they glided over ivory keys. The white mask hid his irritation of his guests, both of which were sitting on the step a few feet behind him; neither were adapted to the cold, and insisted upon fires at all hours. The lake was coated in glorious skim ice giving the candles a beautiful reflection as it slid from liquid to ice, and back again, dancing in the draft.

Behind him, Ethan lounged on the step with his back against the wall, two candelabras placed on either side of him. Propped against his knee was a sketch pad, and in hand a charcoal pencil. The boy had delayed to display his talents with sketching until the beginning of the season, choosing to continue to make himself look like a fruitless fool until most recently. Erik had no idea as to why Ethan had never mentioned it. His talents were better than fair, Erik grudgingly admitted-after being forced.

Raylan was also sitting on the step a mere few inches away from Ethan, as always watching Erik play, taken with the music. Wrapped around her shoulders was a thick wool blanket, one that Erik had stolen from Carlotta's room and conveniently 'forgotten' to tell Raylan where it had come from. Occasionally, Erik would pause in his playing to steal a glance at her all wrapped like a package of sheep fuzz. Her hair was free from its usual restraints, full curls gently cascading down and around her blanket and shoulders, reflecting reddish brown tones in the candle light. She was magnificently gorgeous by fire light, not that Erik thought her to be ugly at any time, but this light especially brought out all her luscious colors and took his breath away every time he looked at her.

Raylan turned her head slightly to glance at the stiff back of their host, only to be reminded again by Ethan's groaning that she wasn't supposed to move. He was sketching her, a habit he had picked up again in result of his boredom, when he was around that was. With a sigh she returned back into her former position and glared at Ethan.

Ethan glanced at her, looked back at his paper and commented dryly, "I am working on your face, would you like me to change it into a sneer?"

Raylan growled, "No," and relaxed her features, letting herself be soothed by the music once more. She could feel the tension drain from her expressions, an unnatural calm taking its place to reflect gently over her face. Once again Ethan took to his rapid and yet precise sketching, swift and smooth strokes dragging across the paper in time with the magical sounds that played through the air.

Erik's irritation grew at Ethan's barking commands, and her retorts. They worked too well together, too smoothly. They bickered constantly, fought like dogs, and yet they always made up, and were always willing to compromise to make their friendship work. Neither ruled the other, neither followed, they just worked together every step of the way- the perfect team… just another thing the 'dreaded Phantom' couldn't be with her. To his surprise, Erik felt the jealousy rise inside of him rapidly like a blazing fire. His fingers faltered as his mind drifted into rage and more thoughts of his imperfections; however, he quickly recovered with an unnoticeable blush, not wanting his guest to notice a thing.

Neither of the two seemed to notice their host's mistake. Ethan continued his sketching and Raylan continued to listen whilst itching to move, or talk, or something. She had become strangely desperate for the comforts of conversation between the always guarded mind of Erik and with Ethan acting so oddly recently, retiring to his room at unbelievably early hours almost every night. This night was the one moment in a long time that all three of them were in the same room together, and the fact that music seemed to be the only interaction between them was making her impatient.

Again Raylan looked over her shoulder, and again Ethan cleared his throat as a message. With a huff Raylan returned her gaze, but purposely moved the position of her head just to annoy him.

Ethan suddenly groaned loudly and put his pencil down, looking to Raylan and saying with a sigh, "Are you unable to keep still?"

Raylan frowned, "I'm cold and I'm uncomfortable. My muscles are tensing up, and to tell you the truth I can't feel my ass, so would it be alright with you _sir_ if I could take up a moment of your valuable time and move just a little?"

Again at her outburst Erik's fingers faltered in annoyance. He much preferred the silence to their endless quarrelling, their endless reminders of how distant he was from them…from her. Thankfully, another sound drew his attention and he paused to listen, his superior and highly sensitive ears catching the sounds coming from above. They became louder, the giggling of girls, the complaining of the men working backstage, lights and set, Madam Giry's endless instructions sounding angry as she told a group of dancers to straighten up and try harder. Yes, there would be a performance tonight, and he would attend it…alone.

Ethan at Raylan's bark respected her request, putting his pad aside and nodding for her to take the break she requested. With a small, muttered thank you Raylan stood, stretching her muscle's beneath the thick blanket and rolling her shoulders. Suddenly a loud bang sounded from the ceiling above, both Raylan and Ethan's eyes jolting with surprise towards the cave roof. A chorus of shouts followed the loud bang, and then went silent, returning to the dulled roll of sounds from above.

Raylan then questioned aloud, "What was that about? What's going on up there?"

Erik shrugged, "Someone most likely dropped a piece of set."

Raylan looked to Erik's back curiously, "Set? But it's getting close to Christmas; wouldn't they be let off to spend times with their families?"

Erik gave a dry chuckle, "You think they're given time off? And if it was even offered that these workers would take it?"

Behind his back, Raylan glanced down, feeling embarrassed for not realizing that. How did he always make her feel so much like an idiot? Ethan looked to her and gave a small, reassuring smile before glancing eagerly back to his sketchbook. Raylan sighed and stretched once more before she took a seat where she was before.

"How was I positioned?" She asked as Ethan took hold of his drawing pad eagerly. Ethan took a moment to show her, and once Raylan returned to her position he began his sketching again, all three returning to that immortal silence.

Erik sighed, his fingers taking a more mournful tone from the organ. He spoke then, more so saying it to himself but loud enough for his guests to hear, a subliminal wish to strike up conversation, "It's a shame, they butchered Shakespeare's work to make it more 'socially appropriate'." His fingers offered a mocking trill.

"So it's a Shakespearian play huh?" Ethan questioned, still not removing his attention from observing Raylan but catching their host's words, "Which one did they mutilate this time?"

"Every winter they devote some time to Shakespeare-to remind people of the classics," Again the trill, "They completely destroyed 'Romeo and Juliet'" His fingers danced over the keys producing the opening song to the play.

"So it's Romeo and Juliet," Ethan groaned, "Such an overused play."

"Agreed," Erik consented, "However, it is more butchered than most. The brilliant managers," A trill mocked that idea, "decided to change the plot, so it's not as depressing in the end."

"Oh lovely," Raylan laughed and Erik's playing once again faltered at the sound of her voice, "What are they doing to it this time? The Montague's and Capulet's are seduced by a magical spell from Mercutio who just happens to be a fairy princess and everyone lives happily ever after?"

His trill returned to it's tempo as Erik gave a small chuckle, "No, that might be better though. Romeo and Juliet still die, but due to their children's dying love for each other, Capulet and Lady Montague fall in love with each other, are married by the friar, and live happily ever after."

"But..." Ethan glanced up at Erik, "Weren't they...married?"

"That gets conveniently forgotten," Again the mocking trill with a bass note of annoyance.

"Oh, how...convenient," Ethan shrugged and returned to his drawing, only to sigh and growl tiredly, "Ray, you moved again."

"No I didn't," Raylan protested with a small, sarcastic grin that obviously showed she was lying.

Ethan chuckled, "Yes, because your hair randomly blew itself into your face."

Erik chuckled at their bickering and continued playing, now a game of cat and mouse with the music

"It was a phantom wind," Raylan giggled, "They're all over the place down here."

Ethan sighed, "Yes, and they apparently have taken a peculiar interest in your hair. Raylan please put it back."

Raylan pouted and said in a playful, childish tone, "No." To further the game, Raylan stuck her bottom lip out and acted like a denied, spoiled teenager.

Ethan chuckled, "Look at that lip...and you're so adorable."

"I know," She giggled and pulled her lip back, "Which is more than I can say for you."

Erik rolled his eyes at their childish game as his fingers played "Ring around the Rosie", although he had to admit he couldn't suppress a small smile at hearing Raylan's playful sulking voice. Almost instantly though, his smile vanished in remembering that her playing and fondness was not directed towards him… just like Christine. Now his music drifted from the game to a darker song, slow and trudging almost like the funeral march. From above, his ears continued to catch the noises of preparation for the night's performance. It was suspected to be a full house, the wealthy people of society wishing to catch their last glimpse at the magic of the Opera before it closed for Christmas. Every well respected member of society would attend, and he would join them, uninvited and by himself. "Tonight is opening Night, and I shall be in attendance. Alone," His said to himself, his tone holding an odd amount of finality to it.

Surprisingly, both Ethan and Raylan paused in their game to hear him say that. Curiously, both perked up and oddly said in unison, "Take someone."

His tone grew colder, and the music faded into a dry, dead end. "No, not tonight.Those idiots forgot to pay my salary," There was a sadistic pleasure in his voice and an eerie gleam in his green eyes, "Which I will have to correct them on later."

Ethan cocked an eyebrow and spoke with almost boyish curiosity, "You...you need money to get into the play? But you're the Phantom...or was it you needed money for a date?" There was a pause in Ethan's speech before he added on mockingly, "Need it to buy you a wench for the night?"

Instantly, Erik's fingers slammed down upon the keys in a harsh minor chord that rang out across the caverns with a deadly eeriness. Both eyes focused upon the imbecile in a heart stopping glare. The delicate nostrils flared in anger as the Phantom's breathe quickened. "I have killed for less," He threatened ominously.

In Ethan's natural, stubborn manner he rose to his feet, angrily tossing his sketch pad aside. Raylan rose swiftly after him to try and shut him up before he said what she knew he would...but she wasn't quick enough. Ethan barked viciously in response, "Oh, go ahead and try it. I'm dieing for a good beating of your 'high and mighty' ass."

Erik's glare narrowed into a look of resolution, as his hands disappeared beneath his cloak, reaching for his instrument of choice. His deft fingers found the stiff, dry rope, pinkish in color, and still supple. The Punjab Lasso made its appearance in the Phantom of the Opera's skilled hands as he advanced upon the worthless intruder.

Ethan took a brave step forward, completely ready to take any blow and deliver a few of his own… but just as he took his first step, Raylan grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and forced him backwards. Unfortunately for Ethan, the sudden and surprising force of Raylan's action made him trip backwards, and conveniently fall flat on his back against the stone floor.

"Ow!" Ethan screeched after impact, his hands instantly retreating to massage his now aching back.

The partially startled Raylan stood there staring, unsure what to do except say softly and regretfully, "Sorry...I...uh...don't know my own strength." Ethan refused to look at her and so her eyes instinctively jumped threateningly to Erik, making a final statement that this fight was over.

Erik glared at Ethan as the lasso disappeared beneath his cloak. The pressure of Raylan's own glare drew Erik's eyes to hers, and the sudden anger in her gaze took Erik by total surprise. _She hates me_, the thought coursed uninvited into Erik's mind, stinging like little pins being pressed slowly into his skin, _Of course she does, she's no different, and I threatened her precious, perfect boy. Of course she hates me… that's all she'll ever think of me._ Erik's gaze hardened into cold ice, and his lips fell into a tight frown. With an angry swirl of his midnight cape, he turned to leave and in a dark tone reminded them both, "Neither of you are to come tonight. You are not to leave this place." With that he disappeared into the darkness of his own lair, leaving a groaning Ethan and a seething Raylan to fend for themselves.

Raylan watched after him and with a small spit of her own pent up anger, spat loudly, "What makes you think we'd want to go anyways...and with you!"

A groan from the floor distracted Raylan from sending evil glares into Erik's stiff back. She came to Ethan's side after remembering she had hurt him and helped him up into a sitting position. "Oh god Ethan, I'm so sorry, I only meant to pull you back," She said it apologetically, but apparently Ethan wasn't fazed by her kindness.

"Every time Raylan!" He growled angrily, forcing her tender arms away, "You never let me deal with it, never let me handle the situation. What? Do you think I can't? I'm no pansy, Raylan. I've dealt with more dangers than most men can even dream of, and yet you protect me from him! From that...that demon who lives in fear of reality. What is it Raylan? Why won't you let me take him-"

For a moment Ethan paused, not the type of silence that was allowing her to state her reason, but more so the eerie silence of recognition. "You," He said slowly, "You...you're protecting him." Raylan's face suddenly twisted into a look of shock and an appalled mouth opened to protest, but Ethan quickly and painfully rose to his feet.

"I see what this is," He said, looking at her as if she were a freak of nature, "I see what this is."

With that, he turned and waddled painfully back into the dark hall that lead to his distant room, leaving Raylan alone, crouching there on the stone floor and staring after him with the utmost confusion.

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Opening time rolled around, and the aristocrats of Paris filed in, murmuring and talking amongst themselves of dismal concerns and mindless chatter. Vits was backstage barking last minute orders to deal with, the usual last minute issues around the theatre, shouting her commands while someone else did her make-up and gave her facial hair. Like normal, Vits pulled off the appearance of a man outstandingly well- a perfect Romeo for the night's performance. Things were rolling as normal, the average stressed and ecstatic manner of backstage present as always. In no time, the lights began to dim upon the stage and the orchestra did a crescendo into its opening tune for the prologue-which as always gave away the entire play. Not moments later after the lovely narrator displayed to the audience the play's tragic, and now twisted ending because of the 'wonderful' managers, Vits made her glorious entrance as Romeo, and had a 'Holy Palmer's Kiss' with Carlotta-as Juliet. This was all sung of course, allowing Vits's deep, rich voice to ring through out the theater, stunning the audience and only infuriating the twitching La Carlotta.

As planned, the Phantom of the Opera mysteriously appeared upon his darkened throne in Box Five, watching his new protégé with pride. She was good, better than good, amazing was a better word. He could tell that she had easily blown the audience away by her glorious, full voice and the set was up to her usual standards. How she did it all was still a mystery to him- her endurance was incredible. As for the play, well, the tragic tale was conveniently ruined by the edited ending and, as usual, Carlotta's terrible performance. Surprisingly, Chalondra-Vits's mother, conveniently playing the role of Juliet's mother- though magnificent, was easily out shone by her daughter. Erik couldn't help but smile at the irony.

Rested back into his shaded booth, his finger's tapping along in the right style to the orchestra's attempt at music, Erik's mysterious eyes glanced over the set taking in notes. Supreme work, as always- Vits never did fail to impress with her talents. Fine cutting, even painting, and a fairly well disguised entrance and exit gap between two flats that... Erik paused in his analysis as his keen eyes caught something peculiar standing in the shadows between the two flats. Was it a prop? Erik looked closer, squinting slightly to see past the glare of the lights and the darkness in between. No, not a prop, it was a person- he could see the rise and fall of their chest from there, a blessing of superb eyesight. An extra, he supposed and with an unconcerned shrug began to draw his eyes back to the stage when he caught a tiny connection with the person's eyes. Instantly he froze. He knew those eyes, knew them well, but whose? Again Erik drew his eyes to the figure, his vibrant eyes investigating for just a moment, although it didn't take him long to realize who it was. Those delicious chocolate eyes, those luscious and large brown curls, those supple lips and that gorgeously smooth tanned skin left him with no question.

"Raylan," Erik growled under his breath, anger seething suddenly through his veins like s firestorm. There she stood, clear as day between those flats, watching the performance with her wonderfully dark eyes. Oddly, she wasn't wearing her usual farmer girl skirts or walking about in her undergarments- instead she stood there in honest to God men's clothing. The loose white under shirt hung slightly awkwardly along her body, and her unrestrained chest seeming enhanced by the look. The dark brown leggings hugged her curves tenderly, showing off her shapely form, but beneath the hem of the pants she still wore ladies slippers- obviously she couldn't find any men's boots to fit her petite feet. As strange as the concept seemed, Raylan's slender form did look quite appealing in the casual uniform...but it made no difference, Erik found he had to remind himself. Frustration burned through his curiosity at the insolent girl who dared to disobey his orders, but what to do? How to bring the rowdy child in heel?

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Raylan only stayed in view for mere seconds before skillfully blending in with the darkness of the backstage, moving along quickly as to not be recognized by any peering eyes. It was just her now; Ethan had left her side moments after Vits made her fantastic appearance on stage, off to watch his infatuation sing her heart out to an unworthy crowd. Now Raylan slunk along the backstage alone, silently weaving through prepared sets for the next act, making good use of the skill she had picked up when living with the Phantom of the Opera- becoming one with the darkness, its silence and it's secrecy. Ethan's clothes worked well for the task; although large for her thinner frame, the attire hugged at her curves with tenderness, making her movements almost entirely silent compared to the racket a pair of skirts would make when moving around in such a manner. It was actually rather comfortable, Raylan decided as she slunk along; these clothes didn't threaten to squeeze the life out of you like a python as so many of woman's dresses did these days.

As Raylan strolled along behind the set, the silence was suddenly overcome by a short racket of applause, and for the moment she paused in wonder of why the crowd had cheered. It became apparent seconds later as Vits exited around to backstage that they had been cheering for her wonderful performance, a little encouragement for when she had to return to the stage moments later. Raylan drew back, not certain whether or not it would be good for Vits to see her, but obviously she had no choice as Vits eyes instantly connected with her movement and narrowed to show that she knew exactly who was in the shadows.

Raylan didn't even attempt to move as Vits suddenly stormed over, cornering Raylan in her normal assertive fashion and whispering to her fiercely, "What the hell are you doing back here!"

"Vits," Raylan greeted with a half pleased smile, "Shouldn't you be on stage?"

"I've got a minute," Vits growled, and then looking cautiously over her shoulder added, "Don't you know what will happen if _He_ sees you?"

Raylan smirked and said almost mockingly, "He'll get angry, storm off into his room for a few days, come back out, bang on his organ, and then everything will return to it's normal tension filled days."

"You wish," Vits said with a sigh as if she were trying to explain something to a child, "He'll take it out on us-tonight. During the show, most likely Act II. Then he'll get angry, storm off into his room for a few days, come back out, bang on his organ, and then everything will return to it's normal tension filled days."

Raylan laughed, "Why would he take it out on you? You had nothing to do with this- this was entirely Ethan and I. Once Erik stormed off, Ethan confronted me and since he didn't want to go by himself, showed me the secret passage with the mirrors and we came- no big deal- it isn't like we are making ourselves known. We're being very discreet, just getting some air from the dankness of the Underworld- no harm done. Ethan told me he's been getting away with for a few weeks now, so he should be pro at this. Besides, it's not like _he_ knows we are here. Erik always comes back about thirty minutes after curtain, and we'll be back before the last Act begins."

Vits shook her head, not buying it, "He knows, trust me." Suddenly, Vits dipped away into the darkness, slinking back towards the stage, and was heard seconds later on stage-starting another song.

Raylan rolled her eyes and very gradually continued on her stroll. What was the big deal? It wasn't like she was in new territory, or that the situation was any more dangerous than it was before. Besides, she needed some… mildly fresh air. Don't get her wrong, she enjoyed the cool darkness of Erik's lair, but someone like her, always on the move, forever changing- she was never good staying in one place for too long.

Raylan had drifted deep within the maze of sets, past unknown hallways and abandoned props, just leisurely moving along, enjoying the different scenery and sweet silence. The silence was short lived though, and slowly a noise crept forward, his voice whispering in her ear. "Raylan," it echoed off the walls. "Raylan," It came from behind, from her left-then her right. Where was he? Footsteps came out of nowhere and disappeared just as quickly. His tone was harsh, low and cold that sent shivers along her spine. "Why did you disobey me?" The invisible voice asked, "Why did you not listen?" He nearly shouted then, making her jump slightly from the intensity, "Raylan!" In that moment, darkness lay thicker than fog around her, giving off no light

Raylan looked about, not as quickly or frantically as she had done countless times, but instead in smooth, watchful movements. She had learned not to fear his voice- often when it was heard, he was actually no where close- the power of projection. Her eyes still checked every corner, they watched carefully for the faint swish of a cape or the glint of a harsh, white mask. These signs never came, and so she ignored him and continued on her smooth walk, although more cautious now. He could try to frighten her all he wanted, she wasn't afraid of him anymore... she wouldn't allow herself to be. To fear him was the give him the power, the control, the freedom, and that was something she would fight him for until the end.

Whispers without bodies followed Raylan wherever she went, often calling her name-but only she could hear it. Footsteps continued to dog her. Then abruptly it all ceased and silence flowed around her undisturbed.

Raylan halted as the whispers faded into the darkness. Why had he gone quiet? Had he given up and just let her be? No, he was far too stubborn to do that. Had something distracted him? Hurt him? Oddly, the thought caused a sudden panic to rise in Raylan's gut. Where had he gone? Had someone seen him? Oh god, if they did... in her chest her heart began to pound with the power of a thousand drums in the chorus of utter terror, of fear… but no, breathe. Raylan forced down the feeling, stabbing it into the deepest reaches of her mind, and leaving her with an uncomfortable feeling of embarrassment and confusion. Why in the world had she panicked like that, even if for only a moment? Erik was fully capable of handling himself, he didn't need her to protect him...and she wasn't trying to...right?

Something went wild around her, lights flashed about Raylan, subtle lights in different dark colors briefly relieving her from darkness catching pieces of walls, and stairs in odd ways turning them in to nightmares

Raylan jumped like a startled cat, her shoulders arching up and her fist rising from natural instinct. The lights flashed on and off, confusing her focus, causing her to squint from the intensity of a light not seen in so long. Her body gave a shake, her heart began it's thunderous drumming once more, and that awful feeling returned to the pit of her stomach. What was he doing now? Still no reason to be afraid, it was just him doing this... but the sudden light was dizzying. Her eyes struggled to make shapes through the mixture of darkness and light, but there was no use of it. He was a persistent ghost, that was for certain... but so was she.

In stubborn defiance, Raylan gave up trying to make since of the flashes, and instead did what worked best. She came gradually to her knees, resting back on her haunches and folding her hands gently in her lap. Her eyes slid shut, blocking out the confusing games he played around her and focused on the single sound of her breathing, tuning herself to focus only on what she wanted to, her old trick. She was forcing herself to remain calm, being defiant as always.

The play continued to its horrendous end, Romeo had just found Juliet dead, and was how singing his-her last song, about to take the poison-this went on for a good few minutes. Only to have Juliet awaken to see Romeo dead, and sing her song-before killing herself with a dagger-as described in the Prologue. Act Four ended, leading to Act Five, where the Friar tells Lady Montague, and Capulet about their children's forbidden love, and to the horror of Shakespeare's spinning grave, the two adults-one of them Vits's mother- fell in love, giving it a happy ending. To most of the cast's horror, the play was a success, which meant it would be repeated- often.

As the audience exploded with cheers, Raylan's senses spun, screaming warnings in her ears, urging her body to react. Movement, thousands of people moving, she could hear them through the silence, and with hearing it, she bound to her feet. The flashing had stopped, the darkness returned, but not for long. People were flooding from the stage, coming her way. She had to act fast if she wished to be unseen...and so she did. Raylan took off at nearly a full throttle run, reverting back to her amateur days in the Opera of screeching around corners and tearing down halls she couldn't recognize. Halls upon halls, she remembered this maze- the first time she had actually seen Erik was when she had been lost in these halls- and the past came to the present like a slap in the face. Once again, she had managed to gallop her way into being lost, and so once she was certain she was far enough away from the bustling stage, she stopped to try and gather her bearings.

A smug smile crossed his face as the Phantom of the Opera strode down the hall towards Raylan. He could see the fear in her face, and the panic in her eyes which gave him a tad of sadistic pleasure. He had caught her red handed so to speak. "Didn't I tell you to stay in my lair?" He asked mildly with venom seeping into his words.

Instantly Raylan froze and her back stiffened. Damn him! She should have known he would see her, get some sick pleasure in seeing her even the slightest bit vulnerable...the bastard. Her head rose and her shoulders pulled back, her body instinctively puffing up to defend herself against her so called 'predator'. In a smooth, slow spin, she turned towards him, and undistinguishable look on her face. Her tone was an uninviting cold as she responded, "You know me, never have been good with that whole obedience thing."

"That might explain why you've been almost captured to many times," He dealt the blow smoothly, "And it will be why you are finally captured."

Oddly, Raylan took no offense. She simply smirked and said carelessly, "Most likely."

"I hope you enjoy hanging from the noose," He responded coldly.

"It's not as bad as you would think, being strangled... I should know," She returned the comment just as coldly, giving a small twist of her neck to display the nearly vanished bruises from the night he had assaulted her, "You don't feel much."

Erik decided to play the cat's game, continuing on cruelly, "Then I hope you enjoy seeing your dear boy hang first, watching as his face turns white, his blue eyes pop out of his head, and his tongue stick out limply as his dying body swings back and forth like a spider being batted by a cat-for amusement of the pheasant crowds watching. Yes, you'd enjoy that wouldn't you?" His voice sounded amused at the thought of such a scene

Raylan's eyes narrowed and although for a moment she considered controlling herself, her words slipped out before she could bite her tongue. "You're sick," Raylan growled, her tone for the first time in weeks filled with hatred towards him.

"Am I?" And Erik straightened, taking a towering position above her fragile form, "I'm the one who's trying to prevent that from happening. It is you who are deliberately disobeying my commands, risking not only your life but his own by carelessly wandering around backstage. And on opening night! Which draws the largest crowds. What if somebody recognized you and alerts the police? Where else do you have left to run? Your choices are very limited, why else would you have come running to me? And yet you jeopardize the safety I provide you by a meaningless and highly dangerous excursion for fun! Risking not only your life and his, but mine as well. And you think I'm sick when I press upon you the reality of the Hangman's noose? The very fate from which I am trying to save you! I have seen men die from hanging, it is not pretty. I gave that order for your safety, I didn't think you were so careless with your life-let alone his. Because if you are, I shall not bother to look out for either of you anymore." The threat loomed dangerously after his words, expressing his seriousness in the matter and how much he was not willing to take the chance.

For a moment, Raylan held silent, a look of gentle surprise in her eyes, and then very suddenly that look mounted with a blaze of rage. "Fine!" Raylan spat back with the same amount of power, "Then don't! We've made it fine without you for years, we can find a way again! And bullshit, you were thinking about my safety! You don't give a damn about Ethan and I. Do you think I am so weak as to fool myself into thinking you would ever care for me? I know why it is you keep us, and I'm disgusted by the thought! You like having the control over us, don't you! You like knowing we don't have a fucking choice but to obey your every law- you like being able to force us into being nothing but cold statues in your world! All we are is a fucking problem to you, another burden on that heart that you won't let anyone into, another damned thing that needs control, to be taught! Well damn that Erik, this is an agreement- not slavery," For a moment Raylan paused, trying to calm herself, to think straight.

After a second, she gathered herself again and continued speaking calmly, "Ethan and I are not like you Erik- we can not go on forever without a taste of light and life. We need warmth, comfort, something to live for...we can't just freeze over- we refuse to make ourselves that cold again, and that's all it is down there Erik- cold. You don't like us, I can tell. Ethan you obviously hate, and I... maybe I am just a nuisance... but I can't tell with you. You are so damn guarded... and so damn cold... it's like living with a skeleton... and with Ethan vanishing as frequently as he has been... I need life Erik, and I can't find it down there."

His eyes met hers with a long, hard penetrating look. There was a distant sadness in his gorgeous green eyes, so strong that it seeped through the very bitterness of his mask to show before her. "Raylan," His voice was tender as he uttered her name, and for a moment all things that had ever stood between them melted in the bliss of his gentle voice, "I do care for…" And then that moment was gone, and then bliss faded as Erik continued on is almost a mocking tone, "That's not true, or I would have killed you by now." With one deep sigh the Phantom returned to his normal self, saying coldly, "I live alone for a reason, a reason that has caused me to be shunned for all eternity-and will be shunned forever more. I cannot let anyone in, because they will hate me, fear me, and loathe me." His voice was cold and distant, "You are like everyone else in that respect, so don't blame me before you take a good look at yourself. Now, I suggest you return, I hear footsteps-and voices." He gestured behind, where the sounds were truly coming-it was no projection.

Raylan nodded in agreement. It was dangerous to be here now, too public. She took a few steps back, preparing to make her leave as the voices grew stronger, but she stopped in spite of the threat. Her head slightly turned, bringing their eyes together once more as her lips parted and she sighed solemnly. The sigh then curved slowly into words, words that she cautiously let drip from her heart, "I don't hate you Erik... I... I care about you... believe it or not... I just wish you would trust me enough to believe that..." Her voice trailed off mournfully, a sharp pain in her words followed by the sharp intake of air choking own tears. She didn't wait for his response, not having the strength to handle what cruelty he would deal her next. Instead, she spun quick on her heel and strode deliberately down the hall, back towards the coldness of his world.

Yearning eyes watched her go, violent green orbs that now swelled and softened with looming tears. She… she cares for him? Erik shook his head- that couldn't have been true…but then why would she mention him trusting her? He couldn't, not her, not anyone…but she said she cared… maybe she would… "Oh God," Erik moaned, lowering his head into the palms of his leather gloved hands, "Why do you taunt me so?" Questions played over in Erik's mind, an internal battle between what he wanted and what he couldn't have, one countering the other time and time again with reasons why he should and why he shouldn't trust her, care for her, or maybe even lov… "No, never that," He whimpered to himself, and shook his head in weak defiance, "Never that again- not after the last time. No woman, no matter who, no matter what they can take… no woman would ever want me… Raylan would never lov… no… she wouldn't." His head lifted from his hands, and the look of uncertainty slowly drained from his cold eyes. No was the answer to this riddle, the only truth.

It was then that the voices preceded the couple strolling down the hallway, her strong manly body still in costume, and his dressed in dark colors of stealth. They were talking, joking about the play-everything that went wrong, and some of the stuff that went right. They were happy, they were in love, and they had more than he ever would.

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Vits paused to drain a coffee mug that she had been holding, "I wish I put more Vodka in this Irish coffee."

Ethan took and cup and smelled, "How much coffee did you put in there?"

"Just enough to give it color," She responded in a joking manner with a strong hint of truth. Then in a flash of movement, Vits eyes narrowed to lock on the figure in the darkness, Erik as he disappeared, but even her keen eyes only caught a glimpse of his midnight cloak as he departed into the night.

Ethan followed her gaze across to a hall into nothing. "What's wrong?" He asked, searching the darkness with alert eyes.

"I saw," She paused, thinking over what she was saying, "I thought I saw something." She continued on, brushing off the feeling of being watched.

Ethan didn't ignore her words- he knew better than to second guess what you saw in this place. "What did you see?" He questioned, gently prodding her to explain.

Vits sighed, "Him."

"Him?" Ethan thought for a moment before cold realization crossed over his expressions. "Erik," He growled and he halted in his footsteps to look bitterly into the rafters, "The bastards spying on us."

"He's always spying on us," Vits shrugged it off, going ahead to her room and opening the door, carelessly leaving it open for Ethan to enter.

Ethan stood where he was, his eyes still gripped on the rafters. "He has no right," He growled, almost as if he was threatening the ceiling.

"And what are you going to do about it?" Vits asked in a mild bemused manner.

Ethan shrugged, "Attempt to pick a fight with him again and as usual be interrupted by Raylan who's protecting her precious Ghost."

"You realize, her interruptions are saving your life?" Vits disappeared into the room behind the sail, changing from costume to normal clothes as she went.

Ethan entered the room seconds later, closing the door behind him although he knew a simple door would never keep the Phantom's prying eyes away. He spoke aloud, "Perhaps- that has yet to be discovered- but she's not doing it for me... I can tell she isn't. She's...she's changing... and I don't like it."

Vits turned around and faced him squarely, "People change, you can't stop them, and it's a part of life. And, Ethan, no offense, but the Phantom of the Opera could kick your ass any day. He doesn't play fair, and he's lived here a lot longer than you-so he has quite a few tricks up his sleeve."

Ethan sighed, "I know... but doesn't mean I wouldn't like to get one good swing at him someday. I don't like him... I don't like what he does to Raylan... I don't like how he looks at her... or the way she," He paused, turning his eyes to the floor almost in shame, "...or the way she looks at him... makes me sick to my stomach."

Vits shrugged, "That I can't do anything about, and neither can you."

His blue eyes rose suddenly to her, strong with determination and love. "Yes I can," There was more meaning in his words than was expected, and after a few moments Ethan sighed and began to explain, "Vits... I have to take her away from here... you were once speaking of leaving, of knowing a way out... I need to get her out Vits...I need to get both of you out."

Vits took a step back. "Both?" Her defenses went up, she watched him with careful suspicion, "Why do I need to leave?"

"You said you wanted out," He sounded kind, not a threat or persuasion in his tone, "You said you wanted to return to the sea...then do. Out there we are free from this nightmare, this secrecy and this poltergeist that controls our every movement. Don't you still want to leave? Don't you still long for the sea?"

Vits sighed, lowering her guard, "I will always long for the sea, once it's in your blood it stays there. And yes, I will leave, when the time is right. But right now, my men couldn't function if I left them-which would cost them their jobs, and then they couldn't feed their families. Besides I promised to protect the two of you, and until both of you are out safe and sound, I'm staying, how else can I mislead the police when you escape? How else, can I defend you? I can't if I'm there with the two of you. Dealing with the Phantom isn't hard, you just have to learn not to ruffle his feathers-that doesn't mean do everything he asks for, just most of it. He's testing both of you right now, to see how you react, how well you take orders, and so on."

"We aren't test subjects Vits- we're human beings who he is trying to dissect," Ethan found his voice rising, his temper mounting slowly, "I can't stay there any long, I can't stay around him, and neither can she, I won't let her! I won't let her make a fool of herself! I won't let her fall again for another man who doesn't deserve her! I won't let him break her heart!"

Suddenly, Ethan drew back as if he realized he had just said something terrible. He looked fleetingly to the ceiling and then back to her, a small fear in his eyes as he asked Vits in a hushed tone, "You don't think he heard me did you? He shouldn't know, he'll act on it if he knows... and she... she hasn't even realized it yet. I see it in her eyes and she has yet to recognize it... I have to protect her Vits...you and Raylan are all I have left in this world... I don't want to lose either of you."

Vits replied almost coldly, "He hears everything, and his vengeance isn't always immediate, first of all. Second, isn't Raylan old enough to make her own choices? For better or worse?"

"She's being foolish. We promised we wouldn't get attached to-" and then he stopped, taking a deep sigh before adding on, "but I suppose we both are breaking that promise." He looked tenderly upon Vits, his deep eyes holding her own with a gentle kindness, "I got attached... I broke that promise first."

Vits arched an eyebrow with an I-told-you-so look, and a small smile, "Let Ray do this, if it's a mistake she'll learn. But what if it's not Ethan? Erik needs to leave here more than any of us."

Ethan growled at the mention of his name, "Erik is a monster...he doesn't deserve her... and it's more than obvious he doesn't want her... he's drawing her on for his own entertainment, purposely hurting her. He'll never love her the way she needs to be loved... he'll only play with her."

"And what are you doing to me?" Vits asked rather pointedly.

He smiled lightly, "Well I was aiming for romancing...but maybe you're getting the wrong impression?"

"I'm definitely getting that. But what happens when you leave? What happens when you must flee? Those who live in glass house shouldn't cast the first stone," Again Vits walls were raising, again her caution and her distrust for anything emotional.

A frown fell on Ethan's face and he admitted solemnly, "I hadn't exactly thought that far... I suppose I had assumed from your previous conversations that maybe you would have liked to come with us...but then again I suppose living your life with a criminal is nothing you wish to do... seeing as I have nothing to offer but constant running. Perhaps... you'd prefer there be nothing between us... is that what you're wanting?"

"Even if could go with you, I wouldn't. You two can travel much farther alone. Besides, if you're caught with me, I'm an instant hanging," She paused, choosing her next words, "Ethan, I don't want to end our relationship, which was never my intention. I just want to have it based on reality, and not our washings and fantasies."

With her words Ethan's eyes slowly frosted over with a cold glare. "You must like this, knowing our relationship is a dead end. You can love me and dump me with no restraints," There was a strong since of bitterness in Ethan's tone and as the last words came out, he turned away from her, "Nice to know it means so much to you..." His shoulders tensed, an obvious sign that he was trying to contain himself, and his breathing became slow and measured. After a moment of uncomfortable silence he spoke uneasily as if choking back tears, "I... I should go. It won't be safe if the Phantom finds I had gone."

Vits reacted to the bitterness in his tone, and his words. Her back arched as her defenses rose, and she growled in a harsh, bitter tone, "Yes, exactly," Sarcasm dripped over her words, "because I'm so much like my mother."

Ethan held his breath for just a second before harshly replying, "Well, glad we know now." With that he refused to stay any longer. He headed for the door, tearing it open angrily despite the dangers of making a scene, and stormed into the hall. Thankfully, no one was out watching, and so he treaded down the hall towards the chapel, the only other place that he knew of how to get into the Phantom's hell.

Vits slammed her foot into the wall hard. She refused to admit how much it hurt, allowing the pain throbbing in her foot to mask the pain destroying her heart. Why couldn't she hold her tongue damn it? Vits let out a long string of obscenities, followed by another when she discovered her bottle of scotch was empty-she had planned on getting roaring drunk at that point.

"Ray?" Ethan called out once he entered the Phantom's home. Silence greeted him, and only that. The lair was an unusual quiet, even for its regular eerie essence. Too quiet, a dead silence, the type that Ethan had come to know as it bringing nothing good. Bad things happened when silence became too thick, wrong things to… where was Raylan?

Despite his uncertainty whether the Phantom had returned or not, Ethan took off at an instant sprint towards Raylan's room, automatic worry overcoming most of his cautions. He was across the alcove in an instant and began to frantically pound on Raylan's door as soon as he got in arms reach of the wooden frame, calling her name with fear that she might not have made it back. "Ray? Raylan? Ebony, are you in there?" He pounded continuously and was just about to bust the door open in his panic until slowly it creaked open. Ray's red brimmed eyes peered out at him from the crack in the door and although she smiled, her eyes couldn't hide that there was something wrong. "Ray?" Ethan's voice became instantly concerned, "What's wrong?"

Raylan shook her head and ran the back of her hand across her eyes. "Nothing," She said with faked laughter, "I'm fine. Just my eyes irritating me."

"Don't lie to me Ray, I can tell when something's wrong," He whispered, laying a tender hand on her cheek, "Tell me what it is. Was it him?"

Ray shook her head, confirming Ethan's suspicions that it was Erik, although he wouldn't pry for her to admit it openly. Raylan glanced away from him, lowering her swollen eyes to the glinting of the water as she took a deep, grave sigh. Her breathing was labored, Ethan noted, furthering his concern, she always had trouble getting back into regular breathing after a hard cry. She needed some air, Ethan decided, and glancing to the lake, looked back to her and spoke as comfortingly as he could manage. "Come sit with me, you look like you could use some air," He said, and she nodded slowly in response. With tender hands, Ethan took Raylan by the arm and led her to the lakes edge. He placed her gently upon the rocky shore and then gracefully took his place beside her, his eyes remaining locked on her as her eyes drifted across the ice in silence.

Silence stalked down the pitch black hallways of his lair. On cat's feet he crept, yellow eyes glowing, softly lighting the way for him alone. Those eyes narrowed in on the pair silhouetted by his many candles, and reflecting upon his vast glassy lake. The intruder's arm pulled her in close, her dark brown hair cascading romantically over her shoulder. Her head resting up the lout's body, her with him! Anger seethed through him, burning through the regrets of the night's quarrel and the foolish thoughts she conjured in him. She didn't deserve him, not if she would just go running back to Ethan.

Across the alcove, Raylan lifted her head from Ethan's shoulder, using the back of her hand to wipe away mounting tears in her eyes. Ethan waited silently for the time she would be ready to talk and reached out for her again, but sadly that time wouldn't come because Raylan shook her head stubbornly and shied away.

Ethan said gently, "Ray, please tell me what's wrong."

Again she shook her head, and instead of speaking pulled her knees to her chest and looked around for something else to focus on. It was then that her eyes caught that gentle flicker of a white mask, and her gaze froze upon that shadow of a man, peering through the darkness with unreadable eyes.

Those eyes mysteriously stepped into the light with a flourish of a midnight cloak. There stood the Phantom of the Opera in all his glory, anger still seething beneath the mask that hid all. In the light his eyes were a curious emerald, catching and refracting the light in a glorious array of colors with hints of gold. With an air of apology Erik asked, rather pointedly, "Have I interrupted anything here?"

Ethan gaze snapped his way and he began with crudeness in his tone, "Well, matter of fact-"

"No, you didn't," Raylan's gentle voice interrupted him, and for a moment the two exchanged glances that played whole battles out on their faces.

"Ray," Ethan muttered with tiny protesting in his tone. He knew he wouldn't win, not with her when she had made up her mind, but it was in his nature to at least voice his disagreement.

Raylan was quick to make her decision final though and she said in a gentle command, "Ethan...just go."

Their eyes both expressed different forms of pleading, but in the end Ethan did as he was asked. He sternly rose to his feet, allowing himself to give the Phantom one fleeting glare, and then strode away into his hall of darkness, leaving Raylan alone in the room with the man who only hurt her.

Curiosity flooded Erik, but it couldn't override his anger at her for directly disobeying his word. He strode over to where she sat, no tenderness in his steps or his eyes as he asked mockingly, "Did the love birds have a spat?"

"Love birds?" Raylan looked at him crossly, "Excuse me? Ethan and I are just friends, and for your information, Ethan was trying to help me feel better over-" She caught her words just in time, and her voice came to an uneasy halt. Raylan lowered her eyes, trying hard not to tear up again as she muttered, "He was being a good friend."

Her words made Erik falter lightly, questioning all her meaning when she spoke, however, that was only showed on his hardened exterior by a faint flicker in his eyes. Why should he care about their friendship? It's not like anything would happen between him and Raylan. Nothing ever would. Nothing ever could because of the monster behind the mask, because of his curse. So Erik retorted with an eerie coldness, "I didn't know he could be"

Raylan shut her eyes suddenly and shook her head as if she was ashamed. "You never gave him a chance," Raylan said weakly, her voice shaking from the fight against threatening tears, "You never gave either of us a chance." Her voice drifted off into a regretful sigh and this time she turned her view completely from him, letting her eyes drift over the freezing lake, the result of a bitter winter in numerous ways.

The shell inside had cracked from her words and with a flood of memories and constant hopes, his anger and certainty crumbled once more. It was partially true- he had never given Ethan a chance, never let the boy even show a glimpse of his worth, but for a good reason. Without a chance Ethan could never steal her away from him, there would be no repeats from Raoul and Christine. Oh, how he loved Christine, and how he missed his beloved, and how, this girl looked so much like her, and yet was so different. An intoxicating difference which trapped him like a fly to honey, and yet that trap was barbed by bee's stingers. No, he couldn't let her in either, those who saw his face hated him forever, like Christine. He knew Christine's fear, and hate, but he knew that love-given a chance could over come such emotions. Or so he thought, but it wasn't so. Erik would never take another chance like that. He couldn't- a cold heart did not mean a strong one, and he knew he would truly crumble if that heart broke again.

"Have you ever considered why?" His voice was soft and gentle unable to hide the emotions trembling beneath, "Perhaps it's to save you from a fate worse than death. A sight beyond horror. And the monster that lies behind it." He paused letting his quiet words sink in, before his voice gained strength in the fact that he was protecting her from himself. "I am not so self-centered, conceited or selfish as you two think. I must think of the both of you, and how to best save you from me," His tone had slowly returned to ice, a harsh revealing of the truth hiding behind his mask, beneath his midnight cloak, hiding in his mysterious eyes. His eyes which sought her winter earth, the dark and endless depths of her eyes… the one's that would never look upon him with love, never look upon a monster with desire.

With a long glance into her eyes, the look which spoke more volumes than any known speech could, he turned and walked off towards his room, trying to rebuild himself, trying to rekindle his walls and all the things that kept their worlds apart.

**Terrible, no? I'm leaving you with a sad ending on this update, I am sorry, but lord knows what the future holds. We will see in due time. Thanks for reading and reviewing if you do, and I'll be back with an update as soon as I finish writing it. Thank and all that jazz!**

**-Olivia N.**


	23. Alone Or Loved On Christmas

Things I have done this week:

-Attempted to find affordable college

-Found affordable college

-Discovered affordable college not so affordable

-Made a short film by sticking one of my friends in a pillow case and asking them to act like a living pillowcase

-Ate mass quantities of Girl Scout cookies

-Worked

-Bought RENT… and cried once more when my favorite Drag Queen died.

-Had a group of friends come over, played pool, watched RENT, and all cried when favorite Drag Queen died.

-Finally was caught by the parking ticket director at my school that I had almost avoided and gotten away with paying parking for an entire year

-Was charged a crap load for not paying parking for an entire year

-Made the almighty Bangers and Mash at my Moms- a mouthful of calories but so worth it

-Watched massive quantities of Phantom Of The Opera and RENT back to back

-Successfully took my marching band uniform hostage… and am refusing to give it back

-Got wonderful footage of two Mexicans trimming hair in a barber seat in a back alley

**-FINALLY WROTE MY UPDATE AND AM NOW POSTING IT FOR YOUR REVIEWING PLEASURE**

Hey everyone- back with a good long update for you all for being absent for so long for absolutely no reason as you can all see from the list above. Finally decided to update, so I forced myself to sort through the mass amounts of RP and edit them and form the story we all know and love. Hope it is satisfactory and that you all approve. Hope everyone is doing well… and now… on to the review replies where I tell everyone my thanks and usually make fairly odd comments… which is half the fun right? …………. Oh fine!

**A Few Thanks:**

Juilette Delphe- Yes Sumner, congrats, you are a drunk… I told you it would happen! And yes we do screw up their lives, but without doing that… there would be nothing interesting to the story. Life is a drama- better get used to it. And yes, thanks to you Phantom does have a heart- hopefully we can keep it that way. Hugs biotch!

Derhelm- Please… don't… bludgeon… me… I'M SORRY I TOOK SO LONG! PLEASE FORGIVE ME! --Beg – But yes, I am not dead, I am alive and well… just a procrastinator. Glad you returned though- I love your comments and am so glad you didn't give up on my story. Thanks for returning!

Shimmeringtears- Yay! You're back! hugs Thanks for the comment. Yea, there is going to be A LOT of Erik and Raylan in this chapter and so forth… but I don't want to give anything away so yea… keep reading and commenting and all that jazz. Thanks shimmer!

Surf with music- I'm glad there is so much you liked about the latest chapter, and thanks so much for reviewing and telling me what you liked about it- helps me know what readers like- and yea it was a sad ending, but it leads into this new chapter and works better. Yea, and thanks for keeping with this story. Don't worry about me stopping it- I might vanish for a while but I am determined to finish this story- and it will be finished. As for Marching Band- yea the Bowl was amazingly fun, loved it so much! Unfortunately I am not first chair anymore because I slacked on studying a playing test and got bumped back to third, but hey, still a great spot when I'm third out of fifteen in the top band. Congrats on doing well on the District Honor band although you didn't make it- I never have made it either though so don't feel bad. Well- on Thursday of this week my band has Festival, which I am guessing you all have too, so yea, nervous but excited. Hope we place well- so cross your fingers cause our trumpets have a tendency to suck badly. So yea… I love band… lol. Band nerds all the way!

Pulsebeat Crow- Hey! Thanks so much for enjoying this story, I liked yours too… but don't be jealous of my vocabulary lol- my secret is Spell Check… it's my best friend. Sorry for the horrible ending- hope you like this one better- thanks for the review and I'll be keeping an eye on your story.

**Alright everyone, that's it for now! Thanks so very much for the wonderful reviews that keep encouraging me to finish this story. You all rock!** **And now without further delay…**

**-Olivia N.**

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The two remaining weeks before Christmas Eve stalked slowly through the catacombs like an aged and dismal sloth, time adding heavily to the already rigid sensation of the world below, mockingly drawing the dreaded days on longer and longer into a dreary eternity.

Over the weeks all interaction between Erik and Raylan had took a rapid plummet from blossoming friendship to the silent cold shoulder treatment, in which their only form of communication was taking fleeting glances at one another and then denying it entirely. In their act of stubbornness that old void that had existed between them when they first met bitterly returned. Raylan had dropped her habit of sitting with him while he composed at his organ, and Erik had finally smothered the urge to stalk about her door when Ethan was with her. Every fond pattern they had created over their time together was stubbornly tossed aside in an attempt to seem like neither cared how the other felt, like they were better off without their affections.

So frigidly, Christmas Eve had found its way into a frozen Hell, a dark place where its joys would not be celebrated and its warmth would only be denied. Its ignored beauty danced in spirals against the haunting music that filled the catacombs, keeping the holiday at bay, clutching the underworld in an eternal darkness. In his lonely torment it was only natural for such a celebration to go unnoticed, for what was the point of a Christmas when there was no one to share it with… no one to hold.

Erik had become accustom to the irony of it all. The one day that brought all mankind together, that set aside those differences and rang out in equality, love and peace, and in all the world he was forever the reject, the monster abandoned by man and their savior. It was the same every passing year. Above, Christmas meaning was honored and the whole Opera would empty out to celebrate the occasion with those they loved. Few remained in the house that night and those who did spent their lowly time locked in their quarters, alone and boozing until they passed out to sleep in their own vomit. Erik might have been tempted to take that same drunken path if it wasn't for his music and his pride that kept him contained. This Christmas though, the taunting holiday served to be more unbearable this time around than any other year, and Erik felt somewhat more willing to submerge himself in drink than stay sober through the joys that were so close and yet so distant.

There was no doubt in his mind of how his two guests would spend their holiday. Together, a loving union of fond memories and silly games, taking the most of that blissful time to exchange what they could give, the tiniest of gifts and all the joys that laughter could possibly bring. It was almost surprising how much the thought made him seethe with anger, the blood rushing to his face in frustration and causing his skin to burn uncontrollably. His usually graceful hands stumbled over the keys of his prized instrument, sending chords of disgust and haunting mistakes into the night air. Erik's growls of frustration followed it, dark tones that nearly silenced every other sound in his world. His jaw clenched and his fingers paused to float stiffly over the keys as he tried persistently to swallow down his blinding rage and focus on the numbing sensation of his music. Again he started, the magic continuing in dark strands of loneliness wrapping like smothering velvet along the alcove, so familiar and powerful, so unlike the world his guests knew, so… again he found his fingers collided into a nauseating pitch that tore with the sharpness of a dagger through the velvet veil. Again the blood ran into his face, again he burned, but this time his rage had become less controllable and so in a near deafening scream of aggravation, Erik burst to his feet as his hands came to pound upon the keys, releasing the most horrid chord into the quivering darkness.

Silence followed the bitter sound, a silence that seemed to hang in the air as horribly as a noose until the silence was distorted by that cocky voice that Erik loathed so much, ringing out curiously behind him in a mocking tone of, "Frustrating, isn't it?"

Erik's eyes met the boys in a bitter glare and his voice was even colder than the night air around them as he hissed, "Indeed."

Ethan nodded, noting Erik's tone as he cautiously emerged from the darkness of his hallway. His handsome face shown with a honey tan in the candle light and his thin smile tried it's best to curve into an honest grin towards his monstrous host. "So," He began, his hands drumming uncomfortably in his jean pockets, "You like music."

Erik didn't allow him the pleasure of being friendly, saying with a growl, "Yes, I do."

"Good, good hobby," Ethan said lightly as the uncomfortable anxiety came over him. He cleared his throat nervously, diverting his eyes towards the lake for a moment and then back to Erik again. His mouth came open as if he was about to say something and when nothing emerged his mouth closed again to only emit a low, heavy groan.

In a patronizing voice, Erik asked with mock concern, "Are you alright? Do you need to go lie down?"

Ethan's eyes shot up to Erik with that usual bitter fire behind them. His mouth snapped open, obviously ready to spit out some insult that came to his mind, but to both of their surprise, Ethan held back the spiting words and instead gritted his teeth as he mumbled solemnly, "Erik... we need to discuss something."

Erik was slightly taken aback when Ethan didn't rise to the bait. His tone changed to a softer hint of curiosity, "About what?"

Ethan gave a slight, boyish grin and shrugged lightly, "Christmas."

Erik's brows rose, "What about Christmas?"

Again Ethan groaned lowly, and although it was more than obvious he truly didn't want to say a thing, Ethan pushed himself to get it out, "Listen, Erik, I know you and Raylan are not on the easiest of grounds at the moment, but... well... tomorrows Christmas. It's supposed to be a day of peace, of caring, and you can call me childish, but I just don't think it's right for us to all act so coldly on a day meant for rejoicing."

Erik thought it over for a minute, and wondered if he could make the boy more flustered-so he pressed him, "Continue."

Ethan growled frustrated, and continued stiffly, "So, Raylan and I have a tradition... well, not so much a tradition seeing as we have only known each other for six years tops... but either way it goes. We've always tried to put aside our sorrows on Christmas, even if that means conversing with people we are less favorable of... so... I'm taking the opportunity to play a better man by inviting you to share Christmas day with us... opposed to you spending the entire day pretending we don't exist. It's nothing big really, Raylan and I usually get up earlier to exchange gifts and make breakfast, but I'm just saying... I think it would be better if you shared it with us."

"I'll think it over," Erik chose his words gracefully. He honestly wasn't sure if he wanted to spend Christmas any different than he had before, by now it had become more than habit to spend days of rejoicing alone. Besides, Erik knew, it wasn't like they would really want him there anyways. The boy was just feeling guilty for the sake of the season.

Ethan nodded with acceptance, "Alright... well just if you decide too, we usually get up about seven, give our little trinkets and such." He grinned, trying his hardest to look comfortable and not fazed by Erik's answer. With a sealing clap of his hands Ethan began his backwards slide towards his room, giving a slight wave towards his host as he said lightly, "Well... goodnight Erik... we'll see you tomorrow, whenever you feel comfortable."

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"Merry Christmas!" Came the boyish cheer that rang across the cavern as loud as church bells. Ethan bustled through the dark tunnel from his room just as some distant clock struck seven a.m., a few small packages tucked beneath his arms as he charged into the foyer. The alcove was submerged in its usual dense silence for only a few seconds more before Raylan erupted from her own room, her gleeful voice reverberating beautifully across the cavern as she exclaimed at the top of her lungs, "Merry Christmas!"

The two came together in a cloud of laughter, Raylan bouncing into Ethan's outstretched arms and burying her face fondly into his hair. Ethan lifted her from the ground, dropping the presents in the process but not caring as he spun his giggling companion around in a circle, her feet swinging like branches in the wind as he spun her. Finally the two of them flopped down upon the ground in barrels of laughter, a noise that for the time seemed to beat back the darkness and bring what little candle light there was into a bright flame. The two of them continued to laugh until their sides ached and only afterwards did their tear swollen eyes notice the silent figure at his organ, his piercing gaze laying upon them in a mixture of sorrow and the most subtle hint of ease.

The harsh gaze soon pierced through their laughter, his cold eyes watching them with loathing. He hated the day. No one ever loved him enough to give him a gift, and the only person he ever cared about refused the very gift of his soul. The green orbs drilled holes through the boy, speculating him. Ethan had only invited him out of sheer pity; Erik felt it and his hatred ran deeper because of it.

Ethan shuttered at Erik's cold gaze, his arms going limp around Raylan's waist to fall to his sides. He fidgeted uneasily for just a moment, clearing his throat nervously and drumming frantic rhythms on his thighs as he said slowly, "Well...Erik... Merry Christmas." Afterwards, Ethan looked expectantly at Raylan whose deep eyes were locked oddly on Erik's dark image. Her brown orbs focused on him with mixtures of confusion, delight, and some remaining bitterness, but no words emerged from her slightly parted mouth.

Erik purposely avoided Raylan's gaze, dipping a stiff nod to Ethan as he bitterly greeted, "Good morning… Ethan."

Ethan gave a half hearted smile, and then again looked to Raylan expectantly and once more when nothing was said he gave her a hard nudge in the side with his elbow.

Immediately Raylan's eye snapped to Ethan as she growled viciously, "Ow! What do you want so damn badly?"

Ethan gave her a cross look and naturally Raylan returned until Ethan's expression changed to pleading. It was almost remarkable how well the two of them could read one another, and so Raylan got the gist of what Ethan wanted without even one word having to be exchanged. With a regretful sigh, Raylan turned soft eyes back up towards Erik, saying with a somewhat sincere tone, "Merry Christmas... Erik."

"Merry Christmas to you too," Erik replied without looking at her, His tone a distant and unforgiving sound.

The thick silence fell once again across the three and for what seemed like hours they all just remained there in that uneasy moment, neither wanting to make that first move. Ethan however was determined to have a good day and pulling himself to his feet, gathered his presents and helped Raylan up. "Ray," He said gently, and her gaze slid to him, "Why don't you go get your gifts. I'll be right here when you are done." Raylan didn't object, just oddly did as he said, walking on swift feet back to her room.

Once she was out of view, Ethan turned his eyes back to Erik, saying lightly, "So you decided to join us?"

Erik brought his bitter eyes up to the boy and gave a heavy nod, saying almost regretfully, "Yes."

Ethan returned the nod, "Glad you decided that. This should be," He paused to choose his words, "uh... interesting. Did you get Raylan something?"

Erik sighed heavily, again with the humiliated tone of, "Yes. I have things for both of you."

"Wonderful," Ethan said, giving an honest grin, and then added on cautiously, "Considerate of you."

Seconds later Raylan appeared, two packages cradled in her bare arms. She drifted silently back over towards Ethan, giving a side glance to Erik as she passed and then swiftly looking away. When she reached Ethan's side she gave him the oddest of pleading looks as if she were asking him what to do, but Ethan just looked at her teasingly and gestured towards the floor.

Ethan cleared his throat, "Well... uh... let's do this then." With that Raylan flopped down to the floor, her back turned to Erik, and Ethan sat across from her facing Erik as he gestured with his hands for Erik to join them.

Erik nodded in hesitant agreement, swiping up two poorly wrapped bundles from his organ stool and walking gravely over. All three were obviously ill-at-ease as Erik approached with his packages and sat down on the ground next to Raylan, who shuffled uncomfortably from his closeness. For a moment Erik gave the saddest of looks to Raylan's downcast eyes, but as soon as she gave the slightest scoot away from him the bitter rage returned with a blaze to his violent orbs.

Raylan's eyes were low to the ground, avoiding eye contact as she fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. Ethan's gaze jumped back and forth between the two, all the while filling with more rage and confusion as to why they couldn't get past the moment. He sighed, Raylan fidgeted, and Erik glared. Finally after five minutes of no change, Ethan couldn't take it any more.

He growled loudly, nearly shouting with frustration as he said bluntly, "God in Heaven, will you two get over it! Yall had a fight- two weeks ago! Get past it already, stop acting like an old married couple, get over it, and move on. Stop loathing one another because we all know you don't hate each other. Raylan, don't look at me like I'm a blubbering ass… and stop trying to drill holes through my skull with your eyes Erik… for God sakes, will you two at least pretend to be nice for the sake of the Holiday?"

Again the silence returned, Ethan having run out a breath and the other two far too amazed at his outburst to speak. From her hunched position, Raylan looked fleetingly at Erik who from feeling the weight of her gaze turned his own fiery eyes upon her. His venomous green orbs unintentionally linked together with her rich brown eyes, those depths of cool earth that watched him so pleadingly that they instantly doused every raging flame within him. Those burning walls of hatred cooled and crumbled for that moment when eyes could tell all that words could not and for a second Erik could feel the faintest warmth of peace trying to emerge from the ashes that were his heart. The moment passed though when Raylan looked away, those endless depths releasing him from his fantasy back into the harsh reality of his world.

Her eyes turned from him felt almost like a smack to the face and so Erik returned to gaze to Ethan, muttering coldly, "I have moved past it." Erik felt her weight again then as her eyes returned to him with the most curious of looks, but this time he fought the urge to look at her and remained stoic.

Obviously his actions were not taken lightly though cause seconds later Raylan straightened up and glared at Ethan, spitting near bitterly, "Yes, exactly. Honestly Ethan, we aren't children. We're adults and don't hold grudges." There was not so much confidence in the end of her words but Ethan didn't notice.

He replied extravagantly, "Well alright then! Fine! Good!"

Once more the silence covered them with a painful air of tension. Ethan gritted his teeth and repeatedly switched sitting positions. Raylan chewed uneasily on her thumb nail whilst rapidly twirling her hair with the index finger of her free hand. Erik simply sat in cold silence, his eyes dancing accusingly between the two. Minuets ticked sluggishly by and once Erik was certain they had all sat in cold silence for half an hour he rose snappishly to his feet, surprising the other two with his sudden movement and causing them to jump sporadically.

With their eyes now turned to him Erik twitched irritably, sighing first before he growled through a tight jaw, "Well… it is more than obvious I am not wanted here… forgive me for the intrusion. I thank you for the invitation, no matter the reasons for it being given, and hope you enjoy the gifts… but I am going to take my leave now… you two will have a pleasant Christmas if I am absent."

Shock covered his guest's expressions then, of which Erik took the opportunity to turn and go, but within his first few steps the kindest of voices sounded, bringing him to a solid halt as she pleaded, "Erik… don't go. You shouldn't spend Christmas alone."

Her voice brought burning tears to his bitter gaze, that soft and warm Southern accent that always reached so comfortingly into his soul, trying gently to fix the shattered pieces. Erik could feel her, he could always feel her eyes- they burned and chilled his skin all at the same time, teased and scolded his nerves, loved and hated so quickly.

His voice shook as he replied so softly, "I'm accustom to it, I assure you… I'm familiar with loneliness."

His ears caught the softest of sighs from her at his words, a finalizing sigh, and sadly believing it to be settled Erik anticipated his lowly march from the room. "Erik," Her voice came again to his surprise and he turned slightly to look at her beautiful silhouette and those eyes that flowed with endless peace.

For the first time in two weeks she smiled at him, that same charming smile Erik had grown so fond of seeing… and missed. Those earthy eyes found his dismal ones and comforted him even before her words were spoken, but even her depthless eyes could not compare to her words then. With the most sincere of smiles she said gently, hopefully, "Erik… we want you to be here with us today… your family… Christmas is meant to be spent with family, with those you love."

_Love?_ Erik nearly cried with the mention of the emotion, and in reference to him. Could it be? Did they love him? Did she love him? He was their… family? He had a family? His eyes swelled with the tears he had swallowed every time such things were denied to him. Were they serious? Did they actually want him? It couldn't be true. Erik turned slowly around, holding back the tears to inspect them with clear vision. Surely they must have been playing some cruel joke, and yet when he came to face them there was nothing on their expressions that suggested it. Only pure honesty stared back at him, and the loveliest of smiles.

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"So," He said, that all too familiar boyish grin creasing over his goldenly tanned skin, "What'd you get me?"

Raylan's eyes slid to Ethan playful, a huff of a laugh emerging from her lips before she said mockingly, "Coal," in response to his question. By Raylan's side Erik sat amongst his 'family', chuckling and thinking secretly that Ethan somewhat deserved it.

"Well then," Ethan sighed, "No present for you." Playfully, Ethan gathered the gifts set in the center of their triangle and brought them close to him, shaking his head in defiance.

Raylan laughed openly and gently batted at Ethan with her foot. She then added a playful threat, "Don't make me pout at you boy. You know you can't resist the almighty pout."

In response, Ethan dramatically whimpered, "Not the pout! Anything but the pout!"

To his own surprise, Erik laughed in good spirits, for the first time in months looking at the twos play with amusement opposed to jealousy. His eyes held fondly upon the two, Ethan across from him and Raylan by his side no more than a few inches away, so close and comforting. His family.

Next to Erik, Raylan's bottom lip had already begun to slide forward from the upper one, beginning it's taunting decent into her powerful pout.

Across from her Ethan's hands rushed to his face to cover his eyes as he protested loudly, "The pout! Oh Lord, anything but the pout! Please- someone save me! Erik- stop her!"

Raylan turned an interested eye to Erik then, her lip still half way poked out as the pout came to a curious pause. Erik simply grinned mischievously and then replied with an air of acted exhaustion to Ethan with, "Forgive me Ethan… but I am afraid my skills are powerless against the almighty pout. I can not assist you."

Immediately, Raylan turned a pleased face back to Ethan and with that continued to tauntingly slowly push her lip further out.

In a last attempt to protect himself Ethan turned his back to Raylan, but when her heel came to prod at his side he could only release a shout of surprise and spin back around to surrender. He sighed then, and placing the gifts down, raised his hand over his head and said aloud, "Alright! Alright! I'll hand over the presents! Please, just don't pout!"

Instantly, Raylan's lip pulled back and she smiled broadly, saying with satisfied laughter, "That's my boy."

Ethan grinned and dramatically sighing, tossed each of his companions the only two gifts that had been brought without some sort of makeshift wrapping to cover them.

In Raylan's lap lay a rolled up off-white parchment that when she unraveled proved to be the finished result of the picture Ethan had sketched of her. Her eyes grew wide in amazement and she cried wonderfully, "Oh, Ethan, you finished it. It's… it's…it's so well done. I look quite pretty in this picture. My lord boy, it looks identical to me. Erik, don't you think?"

She turned the picture about to where he could see it, Erik's eyes rolling skeptically over the image. As much as he would hate to admit it, the boy did do a rather fine job of duplicating Raylan's image. The sketched Raylan looked nearly identical to its original… all but the eyes, Erik noticed. Ethan couldn't draw the absolute magnificence of her eyes. Of course, he wouldn't openly admit that so Erik said as honestly as he could make it sound, "Yes…yes… nearly identical."

With a pleased grin, Raylan turned her attention back to Ethan, opening her arms willingly to him to offer a thankful hug. Ethan grinned and leaned in for the hug Raylan openly offered him, both embracing for a few seconds, Raylan whispering her thanks into Ethan's ear before they released one another and turned their eyes to Erik.

In Erik's hands was a wooden box of no real exquisite design, and when his eager hands opened it was what inside that gave him more of a laugh than anything. Inside set in a straight line of six were new red candle sticks, identical to the types Ethan had overused in his first weeks there.

Ethan chuckled and answered light heartedly, "Making up for all the numerous ones I wasted."

With an amused chuckle of his own, Erik grinned good naturedly and replied sincerely, "Thank you Ethan."

"You're welcome," Ethan smiled, and then instantly turned a suspicious eye upon Raylan, "Alright pouter, what do you have up your sleeve?"

Raylan shrugged innocently and gave a sweet grin, "Oh I wonder. The question is: did I truly get you coal or not? Oh that anxiety of it all…"

"Give me!" Ethan wailed, and reached like a little boy for the presents.

Raylan was too quick for him though and swiftly snatched the two she brought up and placed them securely in her lap. Ethan sat back, a less powerful pout of his own creeping across his face. Raylan simply grinned at him in response and then said stubbornly, "Actually… if it is alright with the two of you… I would prefer to go last."

Ethan gave her a curious look, as did Erik, but neither disagreed so the attention was turned to what gifts were left. Erik nodded to the gifts, gesturing which one was for who and then waiting patiently as they opened them.

Raylan's gift was thinner so she was the first to successfully uncover her present. Beneath the single layer of tissue he had used for wrapping lay several tan colored sheets of paper, dark red ink leading the measures of notes across the pages. Raylan gave a kind smile, curiously flipping with care through each page and scanning the titles. Seconds later her eyes lifted up towards his as she said with delight, "Music scores… to the more famous pieces of our time… I know some of these. Oh how wonderful. Erik, how did you ever get all these?"

Erik gave a genuine smile, pleased that she approved of her gift, "I tried to duplicate as many as I could from memory, with a few of my own touches here and there. The ones written in red ink are the ones I have adjusted to fit your range… the ones in black ink are pieces I acquired in… less admirable ways."

"So, you stole them?" Raylan's eyes brightened with the most wicked sense of humor, "Taking after me now are we?"

He grinned broadly and replied with surprisingly playful sarcasm, "Mademoiselle, I have yet to reach your level of… expertise?"

"Takes practice," Raylan smiled honestly, "Like reading music… which if you don't mind me requesting… I might need some help with. I'm afraid the last time I had my hands on sheet music I was thirteen in the St. Peters choir, lip singing Amazing Grace."

"I'd be glad to assist you," Erik said, smiling inwardly at the welcomed opportunity. Again, that moment when his eyes met hers and the world seemed to pause came once more, sending warm shivers along Erik's pine until Ethan's voice prudently interrupted like always.

"You gave me a dress?" Ethan questioned, pulling from its neatly folded form Erik's gift. He held out before him a suit of lush, dark green velvet, adorned with golden embroidery and accompanied by a white silk shirt and a emerald silk cape to match, with a Celtic knot border. The handsome garments waved gently in Ethan's hands as the American eyed it with half wonder and half suspicious eyes.

Erik gave a slight chuckle and shook his head, "They are dress robes… and they should fit."

Ethan gave a half cocked grin, "Nice material… what are they for?

"For the Masquerade we shall all be attending upon New Years Eve," He replied simply as if the answer were obvious.

Apparently it wasn't though because instantly both Raylan and Ethan's mouths dropped with surprise.

Seeing their astonishment, Erik grinned and quickly scrambled to clarify, "There is a Masquerade ball held at the end of every December to celebrate the coming of a new, and hopefully prosperous, year. I… I have not attended another sense the fire, soon to be three years ago… and, well, the current managers seem to have forgotten me… and in my opinion are getting far too comfortable and self-confident. So…I believe it is time to remind them just who this House belongs to. Refreshing their memory in a sort… peacefully, of course."

Again, astonishment lingered on his companions faces, but Raylan had managed to gather her wits quick enough to ask, "But Erik… that sounds to be a very social event… wouldn't that be unwise for wanted felons to attend?"

"It's a Masquerade my dear," Erik smiled gently, "everyone's identity will be concealed. No one will recognize you two, I promise… I wouldn't allow anything to happen to you."

Ethan snickered lightly and Raylan looked at him with a rather amused grin on her face. "Well that sounds...interesting," Raylan finally said with a small, a delighted laugh of her own ringing beautifully across the alcove.

"Sounds like a lot of trouble," Ethan at last managed to say, and then added on with a mischievous grin towards Raylan, "Which always means a good time."

Erik chuckled openly at the boys words and then added sternly, "I shall behave-unless they openly cross me. I expect both of you to act respectfully and do the same."

"Yes sir," Ethan grinned, giving Erik a small, joking salute before he directed his eyes to Raylan. It was literally a second before Ethan moved on to other things, saying with bounding curiosity to Raylan, "So...what'd you get me?"

Raylan gave a huff of a laugh and pushed him playfully with her foot, saying jokingly, "I told you… coal."

Ethan looked at her expectantly and extended his hands, saying playfully, "Well then… gimme my coal."

"Impatient," Raylan said accusingly, and then with a grin, exposed two objects bundled in sheets of torn cloth. She handed them both to their owners at the same time, saying with a shy grin and a nervous nibble of the corner of her lip, "I couldn't find anything to wrap them in… so I improvised."

"We are in for a treat then," Erik supplied jovially, taking the gift from her with a nod of appreciation.

Ethan laughed, and then without a second thought, eagerly unwrapped his gift. Inside was a wooden box, and within it a set of fresh chalks and pastels, of which Ethan raised his eyes to Ray in shock and spoke almost as if sounding on the brink of tears, "Ray...this...you... these kind are expensive!"

Raylan gave a light laugh, "I bought them for you a while back in London, never could find the time to give them to you. Besides, Ethan, neither you nor I have any expense problems."

Ethan nodded, "True," and then set the gift aside, leaning in to give Raylan a tender hug and whispering his thanks in her ear. When they finished, both eyes turned to Erik curiously.

"You're turn," Ethan said with a grin, taking the box of chalks into his lap and holding them fondly.

Erik smiled at Ethan's actions, then to Raylan's oddly nervous face, and then back to the small bundle in his own hands. He took to unwrapping the light gift in a leisurely and careful manner, and once exposed, the glint of dark maple wood shown gloriously in the orange lighting. To Erik's deepest surprise, in his hands sat a long milky dark brown, wooden flute, various symbols of a language beyond his knowledge carved along its glinting body. At the end, the flute connected to form a carved eagle's head of exquisite style, the beak open to allow air passage, and its tiny eyes embedded with a rich, black stone. Tied close to the air hole was a leather string, and from it hung two brown and silver feathers that had been discarded from the wing of a living eagle.

Long delicate fingers traced the symbols of the gorgeous instrument as shock rang through the living carcass. "It's...its beautiful," Erik stuttered, for the moment at a total loss for words. No one had ever given him such a gift, an amazing gift that spoke volumes beyond his comprehension. When he replied he almost felt sad for being unable to fully express his gratitude, only the soft and sincere tone of his voice capable of saying clearly, "Thank you, thank you so very much."

Raylan sighed as if relieved that he liked it and gave almost a shy nod. "It's Lakota," She said fondly, "Given to me long ago from the boy I told you about...the one who reminded me of you... it's very special to me... and I want you to have it. Hopefully it can bring you the comfort it brought me." There was so much fondness in her tone, so much kindness, and for the first time Ethan didn't seem to disagree. He cupped Raylan's shoulder gently and gave her a nod of approval before returning his hands to examining his pencils.

Erik nodded in understanding, before giving into the urge of his fingers itching to play it, to make whatever form of music it could wave. He put the flute to his lips, and blew gently, listening to the tone, then his fingers flew into an Irish jig, which resulted into a interesting sound coming from a Native American flute, but it was pleasing to the ear. Erik, deciding it didn't fit the instrument, changed tune, trying to find the right music for it, and after running through several types, he found it. The music was an ancient slow, soft, Greek funeral song, and it sang through the caverns with haunting melody amplified by the rich, magical tone of the flute. Though the tune had a sad touch, it celebrated the life of a loved one, going through a joyous birth, happy childhood, surviving a war, marriage, several children, and at last, sweet peaceful death, with the promise of a better after life.

Raylan grinned pleasantly and shut her eyes, allowing the music to paint pictures in the dank caverns of her mind. She tilted her head slightly, resting it against the life that played out before her, and only came back to her own reality once the music ended and she opened her eyes. They first caught Ethan who was grinning at her with a knowing and mocking look, and then at Erik and the smooth flute in his hands. She gave a soft, longing sigh and then pulled her eyes to the floor, for a moment lingering in thought.

Moments later she drew her eyes up and looked playfully at Ethan, giving him another shove with her foot before saying to him in a sisterly tone, "Have a merry Christmas Ethan?"

Ethan nodded and grinned with light pleasure, "Indeed, you?"

"But of course," Raylan smiled sweetly.

Erik chuckled, and for the sake of the moment, brought the flute to his lips and did his best gleeful sounding interpretation of Deck the Halls.

At the noise both Ethan and Raylan tossed their heads back in blissful laughter, and then moments later sang out in a rather nicely tuned chorus along with the song.

After they sang through the last chorus, Erik paused, and as an almost playful dare, he turned to Raylan and asked, "Since it is Christmas, and Raylan, you did say you would like to cook for me, would you like to cook breakfast for us?"

Raylan surprisingly smiled with delight, and then paused to say, "What do we have to work with?"

Erik shrugged, "Flour, eggs, syrup-"

Ethan perked up, interrupting Erik with a delighted cry of, "Pancakes?"

Erik shrugged again and nodded towards the kitchen, "They'll have to be made from scratch but the ingredients are there."

Raylan smiled and with a settled tone said with light laughter, "Pancakes it is then." She rose and smiled down at her two companions, then saying with a motherly air, "Now you two stay out of the kitchen while I'm cookie, you hear? It's an art, and I don't need either of you to distract me."

Ethan laughed openly at her and nodded, saying extravagantly, "Yes, mother dearest."

In response, Raylan batted playfully at Ethan's head and then smiling fondly at both her boy, turned and walked eagerly into the kitchen, disappearing from both of their sight.

Seconds after she had gone and Erik was certain she wouldn't hear them, Erik asked the boy with slight concern, "She does know how to cook doesn't she? Do you think she is I need of assistance? I wouldn't want her to somehow manage to set the place ablaze from cooking pancakes."

Ethan simply laughed and stated, "She can cook fine, and is damn proud of it. Besides… the only time she's ever caught anything on fire was on purpose and I deserved it… but uh… that's a fairly embarrassing story that is better off forgotten."

Erik raised a questioning brow towards the boy, but Ethan skillfully played it off by clearing his throat and saying in a comfortably conversational voice, "She love's cooking, always has… gives her some kind of peace. You'll get used to it, that whole demanding we stay out of her way thing- she never would let me in there while she had the run of things; she's like a she-wolf guarding her territory when it comes to kitchens. You don't mind, do you? It's kind of an old Southern girl habit."

Erik shook his head, "No, whatever is misplaced I can always put back."

"Good, cause believe me when I say she _will_ take over," Surprisingly there was more meaning in those words than Ethan intended, but like usual he just shrugged it off with a grin and a bit of uncomfortable laughter. After a moment Ethan returned his attention to his pencils, but continued to attempt to carry on a conversation with their host. "So," Ethan said, clearing his throat and attempting to sound comfortable, "Have a good Christmas, Erik?"

Ethan's first comment puzzled Erik, unsure if any hidden meaning lay behind his words-he thought there was. Erik disregarded it though and nodded, "Yes, indeed, better than I have ever had."

Ethan smiled, "Well- glad we are capable of bringing you more than just a headache. Thanks for the clothes by the way- its nice stuff- nicer than anything I think I have ever owned."

Erik smiled slightly at the comment and again nodded, still feeling light tension around the boy but trying his best to ignore it, "You're quite welcome. I hope you wear them well."

"I'll try my hardest," He smiled again and then paused, considering something over in his mind before questioning, "So...you like the flute?"

His eyes dropped to the wooden beauty in his hands, a warming sensation forming in his fingertips as he held the precious gift, "I like all musical instruments. The flute is particularly interesting on its own, the one from Raylan more so. I am always interested in other countries, and I shall enjoy the studying awaiting me, as well as the beautiful instrument."

Ethan chuckled before saying thoughtfully, "Good, because it isn't like her to give someone a gift like that, a gift from the heart I mean. Raylan has never been one to open up to people, not since...not since Arron's death, and a gift like that, something that was so personal and precious to her, something she was willing to give away to another...now that is saying something, and is something to be appreciated."

The green orbs turned to look suspiciously at Ethan, question written across his half face as his mind tried to sort out the boys words and allow them to sink in. What did he mean by that? She gave him a gift from the heart, something that was saying something? Saying what exactly? With a slight tone of frustration in his voice, Erik asked bluntly, "What are you hinting at boy?" Ethan's eyes found Erik's, a mixture of amusement and astonishment written over his tanned face. The boy's eyes said more than words, looking at Erik as if he were an idiot. Erik frowned at the gaze and was mere seconds from scolding him on it when what the boy was saying smacked him hard in the chest. She gave him something from the heart… she gave him… her heart? His throat tightened suddenly, cutting of his voice in a moment of stunning realization. It couldn't be true, where were the signs? Everywhere- his mind half answered on its own, but the stronger half denied it with every blaze of power it had. She couldn't… she wouldn't… would she?

Swallowing down a war of emotions, attempting to puzzle it all out, and fighting to gain his wits about him, Erik asked weakly, "Are you suggesting that she… that she has feelings for me?"

Ethan raised his eyebrows at Erik and shrugged, "Now that you have to figure out for yourself." The answer almost sent Erik into a fury. Why couldn't the boy just say it, flat out, just admit anything… something? He was on the brink of screaming when Ethan continued, shutting Erik up for the moment, "She's a maze, always has been and always will be, and trust me when I say I can't read her any better than you can. I don't know what she feels for you so I don't want to tell you something I'm not sure of... it's just," Ethan paused, biting down on his lip a little, "It's...well...never mind, you probably wouldn't be interested to hear what I think she is feeling. I'm no Raylan expert."

Erik looked at him, confused and biting back the urge tear at him for withholding something his heart needed to know. He growled almost bitterly, "So why tell me this?"

At that, Ethan's expressions suddenly became oddly serious, and he said gently, "Because she's beyond amazing Erik, and she deserves some happiness after so long. Someone like her shouldn't have to feel so dead."

Erik was slow to speak, thinking over his response before he sighed, "True, she shouldn't have to feel dead."

"Amen to that," Ethan groaned, placing the pencils aside and raising his arms to stretch his back. Through the grunts of his stretches Ethan then said rather abruptly, "So, what about you? Do you have feelings for her?"

The tables turned then. Erik suddenly arched his back in alarm, his eyes closing to a small glare, and nostrils flaring out. "That is none of your affair," He growled a warning.

Ethan's arms lowered and to Erik's surprise that wide grin on the boys face had not vanished. Instead, it lengthened and with a satisfied tone Ethan settled, "Just as I thought- you do like her."

Erik bristled and stumbled to protect himself, "I didn't say that!"

Ethan's grin became smug, "No, but I know that response. It's exactly what Arron used to say when I asked if he loved Ray... it always meant he did."

The words slid in a stream of irritation them, Erik coming to stand and glare down at the boy as he answered viciously, "I have offered neither assent nor dissent. You can not make a judgment based upon the fact that I do not share my feelings. A fact you well know. Furthermore, I am not this Arron and can not be compared to him."

To Erik's frustration Ethan's smug smile only broadened, "Sure." With that Ethan rose to his feet, stretched again and glanced at the kitchen, "I'm going to go check on our little chef." He looked smugly at Erik who was now seething and attempting to burrow holes through Ethan's skull with his eyes alone. Laughing, Ethan simply smacked Erik lightly on the arm and said with a grin, "But hey, Erik, word of advice, you should try being open for once. Raylan likes that sort of thing... think of it as bonus points."

With that he gave a small wink to the Phantom before trotting off towards the kitchen, a small satisfied skip in his walk.

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Raylan knew Ethan was there even before he said anything, the loud and brisk thudding of his skips giving him completely away as he entered the kitchen. A small smirk crossed her face as her ears caught the sound of Ethan sniffing the air, taking in the aroma of the frying pastry.

He said with a slight eager groan, "Mmmm, smells good. You almost done?"

Raylan chuckled, "Not quite yet. But it won't be long."

Jokingly, Ethan growled, "Well move faster. I'm starving."

"Patience is a virtue," Raylan mocked back and then added jokingly, "And forgive me sir but you can't even begin to imagine the meaning of starving."

Ethan frowned and moved to her side, partially in her view. "I've gone a few days without a meal," Ethan pouted, always trying to win any battle.

Raylan gave him a side look and smirked, "I've gone nearly two weeks without food. So like I said, you can't even begin to imagine that feeling. Besides," Raylan took the handle end of the spatula she was using and poked him in the stomach, "This is not the tummy of a deprived man."

Again, Ethan frowned and then asked as if offended, "Are you telling me I am obese?"

"Yes," Raylan laughed, "That is exactly what I am telling you."

Ethan sighed, giving up the joke and leaning against the countertop lazily. His eyes fell heavy upon her gentle movements as she prepared the breakfast, always the graceful one, always more agile than he ever was. Again, he sighed just from the embarrassment as he remembered all those 'glorious' times when he proved himself to be less majestic and more so a klutz. Raylan only looked at him strange for an instance, but as soon as Ethan's eyes rose to hers he knew those certain matters he dreaded believing were going to be discussed.

"So?" Raylan prodded gently, "Did you ask him?"

Ethan groaned and rolled his shoulders intensely, "Yes... I asked him."

Raylan nodded gently, being an odd careful when digging for answers, "And? What happened?"

Gritting his jaw Ethan pushed off from the counter, pacing slowly to the other side of the kitchen. Raylan waited patiently for him to be ready, keeping a cool calm in her stature and voice, but her eyes gave her away as always, those rich dark eyes that burned with such unleashed curiosity it was almost disturbing.

Across the room, Ethan tried his best to be discreet, giving a small shrug and muttering lightly, "Not much. I tried to hint at something, to see how he'd react. All that happened was him getting defensive and claiming that it was none of my concern." Sadly, Ethan watched as Raylan's brows first narrowed and then rose with delighted suspicion.

"None of your concern huh?" Raylan smirked, Ethan's stomach giving a nauseating twist as he watched that keen grin spread across her face. She knew as well as he what those words always meant, knew exactly how important they were. Disgusted, Ethan looked away, choosing to stare at empty and discarded egg shells lying in a trash ben near his feet instead.

With a sickened gurgle, Ethan said weakly, "We both know what that means Ray, we both know the conclusion in that statement. We both know its dangers." Shakily his eyes rose to meet hers and he was only slightly taken back by the look of absolute defiance in her gaze, although it lasted for just a second before he watched her beat those emotions back into the pit of her mind.

With a solemn sigh Raylan nodded, "Yes, I know how dangerous it is... I just had to know Ethan... I had to know if all we are to him are puppets in his little slave game. It kills me not knowing where I stand."

"I know it does," Ethan sighed heavily, "It always has... so... what are we going to do about it?"

"You mean, what am I going to do about it," Raylan corrected stubbornly, "Ethan, I know you want to protect me, but you can't protect me in this battle brother. This is between Erik and I alone. I don't want you intervening. I must figure out how to handle this, what to do, how to react and feel on my own, have time with my own heart without the suggestions from your own. You know this has to be dealt with."

Ethan nodded in a sad understanding, "And without me. I understand this...I hate it, but understand."

"Good," Raylan said, allowing the silence to linger just for a moment before smiling and saying cheerfully, "Now, make yourself useful and help me carry these plates out there. Your breakfast is ready 'starving one'."

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Christmas. Vits hated the day. It brought back too many memories of her father, and the crew on the boat, haunting memories that left her feeling more alone in the world than any other time. Vits stared at the bottle of vodka, the clear liquid refracting her cheap wooden table top through the glass. The bottle glared at her, it was half empty. An empty glass sat before it. The bottle had been full this morning, a gift to herself. Her green eyes stared vacantly at the wall before her with the distant past, a result of drinking half her gift away before dark. Not like she cared, there was no quicker comfort than drowning yourself in a liquid that could burn away your sanity.

As she poured another glass, a sharp knock awoke the old sea-dog. She responded with an unfriendly growl… which turned into a sneer upon the door being vaulted rudely open and the hazy form of her mother entering uninvited. Vits's mother was dressed in crimson silk for the occasion, the damn holiday. Having just come from church, she was bright and bubbly with the latest gossip, her wicked grin suggesting it further.

Chalondra glossed over her daughter's slightly drunken state, choosing to ignore Vits's latest fondness for drinking-which had increased in the recent weeks. She didn't bother to find out the reasons, assuming it had to do with the poor, and the upcoming holidays. Vits preferred it that way, leaving her mother in the dark, and as far away from her personal life as possible. However, that was about to change-and not for the better.

Chalondra gently took the bottle of Vodka away from her daughter, and walked over to the sink-to empty it and to hopefully take the peasant's attention away from the fact that she was losing her addiction. Chalondra began talking about everything then, taking advantage of her drunken state, "You know darling, the New Year's Ball is coming, a Masquerade."

Vits grunted affirmatively, still ignoring her mother by staring at the wall, "I know. And I don't plan to attend. I never do." There was a deep touch of finality within her voice-something her mother resolved to get rid of.

"Well," Chalondra's tone had hardened, laying her foot down, "Your plans have changed. With your recent elevated status, as an Actor-and a prominent one at that, you must play to your press. You shall attend with Charlotta and I-as representatives of the Thespian part of our social group. In fact, you shall join us as the center core of the dancers, dressed in all white-it shall be glorious! I think a nice eggshell would be wonderful on you!" She added, mostly because she thought it was true-at least to see her daughter in a dress would be lovely, and she also wanted a reaction. Chalondra could not stand being ignored.

Vits turned and glared at her mother, "I'm not going." Her tone was harsh, she had no desire to be screwed. Particularly for the sole purpose to boost her mother's social status, and possibly console the woman for having abandoned her daughter for nearly twenty years-though Vits thought this was highly unlikely.

Chalondra stiffened her back, "You're going. The Patron expects you to be there."

Vits's anger flared up, "The Patron can go screw himself," Vits paused, "Better yet, he can go fuck himself, and you while he's at it."

That was the reaction Chalondra was looking for, she so enjoyed jerking the rug out from under her ungrateful daughter's feet. "In fact, the Patron insists that you go, and dance," She laid heavy emphasis on the key word-_insists_. That meant he wanted it, and by virtue of their agreement-which, she of course knew all about, she now had to obey.

Vits's glare deepened further. She swore under her breath. Chalondra heard enough to understand "bitch".

Chalondra pressed her poor, helpless puppet further with a sweet voice, "So, will you attend?"

Vits stared at her mother with deep loathing, fingering her knives secretly behind her back.

Chalondra continued, "It shall be so lovely to see Christine Daae there, we shall be singing together and I have heard so much about her wonderful talents since her rise to stardom in Italy. It's a wonder the Patron could even convince her to perform with every opera house in Europe wanting her, keeping a steady marriage with that Vicomte of hers, and that terrible disaster that happened two years ago- poor thing- but she agreed, though I still can not figure for the life of me why. It's a shame that she isn't an excellent dancer; otherwise I'd love to do a number with her. However, instead, you'll be accompanying her on the floor-"

To her utmost surprise, Chalondra found herself pressed against the counter by her daughter, with her strong, rough hand smothering her mouth. A deep throaty growl portrayed the hatred raging through her veins. Vits hated being put on show more than anything else. Worse, she would be doing it with her. Christine Daae. His protégé returning. Fear bubbled up as Vits rushed to cover her mother's mouth to prevent _him _from hearing. The last thing the opera house needed was to have him, the phantom, see her again. After she had broken his heart.

In that moment Vits couldn't hate her mother more, and at the same time she truly feared for her life, knowing the Opera Populaire could not survive another attack by the phantom. Vits's voice was a harsh whisper, and the look in her eyes, dropped all pretenses of playing-it was one of command, a look that expected to be obeyed on the spot-with no questions asked, "Don't you dare mention this to anyone else. ANYONE. Unless you want to end up dead. He will come after you. And fortunately, no one will hear you scream. Of course, the Phantom, might torture you first, I can't be certain, it depends on his mood."

Fear ran shivers through Chalondra's body more so from her daughter's tone, and seriousness than her words. However, the overwhelming fumes from her intoxication stole her credibility.

Vits let her mother up, so she didn't crush her entirely-as much as she wanted to. Once free, Chalondra quickly rushed to the door, indignant of her handling. She looked disgusted at her daughter, fear and utter hatred seething through her bitter eyes. Vits did not give her the chance to retaliate though, warning her bitch of a mother with all the seriousness in the world as she demanded, "Don't tell anyone!"

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**That's it for now yall! Review and I'll update! Hugs and thanks and all that jazz!**

**-Olivia N.**


	24. Scarlet Gown

**-Olivia pops out of some portal and falls into her space at fanfiction. net-**

**-She sees a rather crusty looking dark room covered in forgotten papers and cobwebs, disintegrating pencils and old sheet music. There is also conveniently a skeleton sitting in a chair by a writing desk across the room, a broken pencil clutched in its boney fingers and poised over a slowly browning piece of paper with the word "why?" scribbled over and over again on it. Taking a cautious step further into the room, Olivia says a gentle hello into the room and the only reply is the echo of her voice.-**

**Olivia: Whoa… what happened here?**

**-Somehow, the sound of her voice causes a chain reaction, where the once lifeless skeleton suddenly rears up, yawning as if it had just finished a long nap and rubbing its ball less eyes. After a moment of stretching its bones, seeing as it had no muscles to stretch, it suddenly catches sight of Olivia. Olivia pauses, Skeleton pauses, and the all of a sudden the Skeleton leaps to its decaying feet and launches itself across the room at Olivia.- **

**Olivia: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!**

**-Suddenly, the Skeleton embraces Olivia with its fragile arms and forces Olivia's head to its skinless chest, rocking her back and forth and making it hard for Olivia to breathe. In some supernatural way, this Skeleton without vocal chords or lungs finds a way to laugh hysterically as Olivia tries to push herself away from the decaying form.-**

**Skeleton: You're back! You're back! I can't believe you're back! Oh! There is a God!**

**-Olivia gasps for air.-**

**Skeleton: I'm never going to let go again! Never again! I'll never let go Jack, I'll never let go!**

**-Finally, Olivia finds a means of escaping the Skeleton's death grip, and whilst using one hand to hold back the flailing corpse, she stares wide eyed with realization.-**

**Olivia: S…Su… Sumner?**

**-Skeleton pauses, before screaming in excitement.-**

**Skeleton Sumner: Ah! You remember me! Yay! I didn't think you'd recognize me.**

**Olivia: Well… you do look… a little different. Done something different with your… skin?**

**Skeleton Sumner: Yea, I lost it. Sort of happens you know, after you die because you starved yourself to death for waiting so long, and then you're just a rotting corpse, so the flesh just kinda falls off after that. And just between you and me, the anti- ageing cream does NOT work.**

**Olivia: Oh…well… you look so… fresh.**

**Skeleton Sumner: Oh, well thank you, a girl does what she can.**

**Olivia: I, uh… I can see that. So… Sumner… what happened here? I remember it being so clean and sparkly when I was last here… and I distinctly remember it having that new car smell. **

**Skeleton Sumner: What do you think happened here Olivia? Look! Everything's dead! You're stories dead! You left! For a month and five days! **

**Olivia: I've been gone longer before…**

**Skeleton Sumner: That is beside the point! The point is you left us, starving for more… and you never came back! You never came back! Why Olivia! Why!**

**-Skeleton Sumner then falls into tears… which don't come out because she doesn't have eyes nor the means to produce water.-**

**Olivia: There, there. Don't… uh… cry? I'm here. Look, I'm back. See? I told you I would always come back, and I have… a little late but back all the same.**

**-Skeleton Sumner sniffs pitifully.-**

**Skeleton Sumner: Do you mean it? Are you really back?**

**-Olivia nods and suddenly Skelton Sumner jumps into a frenzy of excitement and barrels across the room over the dust old desk. Olivia follows, coming by the desk just as Skeleton Sumner is brushing off the cobwebs with one long boney finger. After chasing away the spiders and dust, Skeleton Sumner gathers a pile of papers from one side of the desk and places them in front of Olivia.-**

**Skeleton Sumner: You've got a few reviews to reply too, although I'm pretty sure your fans have forgotten you by now.**

**Olivia: Bollocks! They wouldn't forget me.**

**-Skeleton Sumner looks at her blankly.-**

**Olivia: Would they?**

**Skeleton Sumner: Olivia… you vanished… for a month and five days. They have naturally moved beyond you by now. They have… found other stories to read.**

**Olivia: NO! It can't be!**

**Skeleton Sumner: I'm afraid so…**

**-Olivia drops to her knees and does a wonderfully overacted version of total agony.-**

**Olivia: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**

**-Olivia continues to howl this at the top of her lungs until she runs out of air.-**

**Skeleton Sumner: You done now?**

**Olivia: Not quite yet… OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO –GASP-**

**-Skeleton Sumner smacks Olivia on back from where she has gone into a coughing fit from screaming so much.-**

**Skeleton Sumner: Look, why don't you just try posting your update and replying to their reviews? We can work out the grief later. As for now, you must remind our public that this story still lives… in a matter of speaking.**

**Olivia: Can I use your rib cage as an improvised xylophone? **

**Skeleton Sumner: Later. Right now, you must focus!**

**-Skeleton Sumner grabs Olivia's head and turns it toward the old reviews.-**

**Skeleton Sumner: Now, get to work.**

**Olivia: Alright, alright already.**

**-Olivia takes a seat at the old writing desk and stretches, preparing herself as she pops her knuckles.-**

**Skeleton Sumner: Don't do that, it's not good for your bones.**

**-Olivia laughs, does it again, and then picks up one of the less rotting pencils. With a deep intake of air, she takes off on the reviews.-**

**A Few Thanks:**

**theNightEnchantress: Yes, Christmas with Erik. Almost ironic how I wrote it in the middle of March, but still cool all the same. Sorry about the wait. Glad you liked the chapter though and I can understand the eagerness for the ball. It's going to be awesome.**

**TheAngel'sMaggie: I'm so sorry! You precisely asked me to update sooner… and I didn't. I'm sorry if I let you down or frustrated you in any way, and I'm sorry about the torturing. It's always a good thing to be eager to read, but it isn't so good when the person isn't writing, so my deepest apologies. **

**Juliette Delphe: Yes Sumner, at the beginning of this I turned you into a skeleton. It's symbolism! Anyways, glad you like our story too… seeing as it is OUR story, and it would be pretty pathetic for you not to like our own creation. Glad for your support though… although it is a little odd with the support of your own story lol.**

**Shimmeringtears: Hi! Sorry to have kept you waiting. Glad that you enjoyed our last chapter and the little turns it gave. Yes, poor Erik to be the victim of Ray and Ethan's stunts, but hey- girls got to do what a girls got to do. Real sorry that this took so long, I truly am.**

**Surf with music: I… am… SO… sorry that I didn't come back. You found time to review this story, I should've found time to update. Lots going on right now is all. Eight days until I am 18, and 26 days until I graduate. LOTS of stuff going on. I'm glad you enjoyed our last chapter. I greatly enjoyed writing it and bringing out a bit of the gentler side of things. I'm glad you are excited about the ball, and yes, it will be quite interesting with Christine and such. Just so I don't get your hopes up, Christine does not play a very big role- she's more so there to push on a few more things we have been planning to happen in this story. For the record, this is not an EC fic… obviously lol. I myself have a bit of a grudge towards Christine, which is shameful seeing as she is a fictional character… but still. Anyways, yes so the ball is going to be exciting. I'll try not to keep you waiting so long this time. The pieces you played in Band sound awesome. I think I've heard of that before- not sure. We are playing Fate Of The Gods, Rejouisance, Symphonic Festival, Amazing Grace -gags-, and In The Hall Of The Mountain King –hehe-. I'm glad you got all ones at Festival. Bravo! As for the thing about junior year, yea it's tough, but trust me when I say Senior isn't any easier, especially when dealing with what you are going to do with the rest of your life after this. Sorry about the poison ivy, hope you got better and don't scratch. The whole macheteing for tigers sounds cool though. At least you are doing a good service.**

**-Olivia leans up from finishing her reviews and looks at Sumner who has magically grown back her skin and with it the room looks shiny and new.-**

**Olivia: Well that's a neat trick.**

**Sumner: See. This is what happens when you update. Things are better.**

**Olivia: You're right. Sorry about the wait. Let's get this party cracking then shall we?**

**Sumner: Hell yes! I get to throw a party again?**

**Olivia: Not on the readers.**

**Sumner: Aww… damn. Alright, let's post this thing.**

**-With that, Olivia gets up from her desk, update in hand. She walks over to a large message board on the wall, and taking a few push pins, places the updates next to where the old ones left off.-**

**Olivia: Bon Appetite.**

**Hugs and love and all that jazz,**

**-Olivia W.**

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She heard the door open in her dreams, and through the endless darkness grew some flickering, warm blaze of light, slowly stirring the heavy veil of sleep aside. Her weary mind was vaguely aware of a form entering her room, a body silhouetted by candlelight that cast obscure shadows across her bed sheets. Morning already, her drowsy thoughts concluded, watching blankly as the figure took cautious steps foreword. Was this shadow coming to wake her?

No- instead of bringing the light, the figure put it out. The gentle hum of the door swinging shut sounded as the shadow stepped fully into her room, once again bringing the silent darkness she had come to appreciate. No blinding sun, no harsh exposing light, just darkness, that comforting cover of night, that great mystery that kept her hidden, that kept her safe. Her fate would not find her here, embraced in a world of night and music, covered in his secrets. _Safe with him_, her heart spoke gently, unrestrained by the logics of the mind as it slept. Her weary eyes smiled fondly into the darkness, then fluttered closed as she embraced the night, accepting its magic as it lowered her to sleep.

She did not wake again until the light returned, corrupting the pure darkness with its severe radiance. Reluctantly her eyes creased open, only again to see that great shadow, silhouetted by the brilliant glow of candlelight beyond her room. The figure was paused in her threshold, the head turned slightly as if glancing over his shoulder at her, possibly considering staying with her in the darkness. She shifted slightly in her bed, slightly raising up to see him better, but just as she moved the figure made a quick escape, stepping beyond her threshold back into the light and wasting no time before shutting her door behind him. Again the darkness, but surprisingly to her slowly waking mind, the night did not feel so inviting and warm as it had moments ago, when the shadow had sat with her.

That brought questions to her mind. How long had the shadow sat with her? And why? What had been so important that he would go beyond his normal gentlemanly restraints and enter her room, uninvited? What had he wanted? What had he done?

Her mind now fully launched to life, despite her bodies complaints and wants for more sleep. What had he done? The question now rolled around in her head like a broken record, playing over and over again, filling her thoughts with slight paranoid suspicion. In a mix of sudden curiosity and the tiniest bit of unease, her hand flung suddenly from its limp sleep to her bed side table, groping the mahogany feverishly. Finally after several seconds of searching, she came to grasp the long match and flint she placed there each night, and with a swift drag across stone, struck the match to life.

At first, the intense birth of fire blinded her sight, causing several little white spots to appear in her vision for a few moments until she blinked them away. After a few moments though her eyes had adjusted and she was able to see clearly as she lifted the match to the wick of a partially melted candle, one of the blood red candles Erik had allowed her to use until he could collect other ones. For a moment her gaze held fondly to the dark wax and then drawing herself from her thoughts, blew the match out and rose from her bed. She shifted her naked legs out from under the warm sheets, attentively placing her bare feet down upon the icy surface of the cave floor that she still hadn't gotten used to. Shakily she stood, wavering for a moment as her legs awoke and then steadying as she took the brass candelabra in her hands. Drawing the crimson candle close to her, she took a few skeptical steps foreword into the still immense darkness. The night retreated from the light though, exposing its secrets to her eyes as she drew closer, revealing what the shadow had come to her for. Revealing what her shadow had wanted, what he had left behind.

Laid out across the glossy wooden top of her dresser was a wave of rose red fabric, spread delicately over the mahogany and hanging slightly down the sides. Placed in plain sight atop the folds of the fabric was something even more surprising, a crisp white note folded cleanly and accompanied by a delicate red rose. Blinking a few times part from sleep and part from confusion, she took those few confident steps through the darkness to her dresser, placing the candle on one spot of bare surface and dropping her hands upon the fabric. Her hands tingled lightly as she touched silk, and then dancing curiously across the fabric her fingers fondly stroked the velvet petals of the rose. Slowly she lifted the rose from its silk bed, bringing its precious beauty to her nose as she inhaled its intoxicating scent. God, how her mind had begun to associate this smell to her shadowed man. Roses, ink, and candles, he always seemed to have that scent about him and she thought of no one else when she smelt such things. Not like death, as so many had rumored in the world above, but like sweeter things, things that defined him.

Almost reluctantly, she placed the precious flower back upon its silk bed, curious fingers then carefully swiping up the folded letter and bringing it close to the candle light. The note wasn't enclosed in an envelope with its red skull seal as most his notes were, but instead was just simply folded as if he wished nothing to get in the way of her eyes and his message. Curious, was all she could think she carefully unfolded the crisp paper, all of this was curious. Still, her mind ignored the oddity of it all and sought the message he left behind, scribbled in swift strokes of red ink.

It began with, _My Dearest Raylan_, and her skin shivered with slight pleasure at the fondness in his words. Grinning slightly, she read on silently.

_My Dearest Raylan,_

_First and foremost, let me apologize for the hour of bringing these items to you. I do realize that this was not properly timed, and that I might very well have woken you despite my best efforts at being silent. Forgive me, but I feared that if I did not take this opportunity that I would never work up the courage to speak with you on the matter in person. Understand, I have not had much practice in the art of courting._

Raylan's breath suddenly seemed to catch in her throat then, and she began to cough uncontrollably although she couldn't understand why. Had he wrote what she thought she read? Again, Raylan's eyes read over the short paragraph. Indeed, he had. It was there, in clear red writing, not a misspelling or a fluke. Courting, it clearly read courting. Had he gone mad?

"I thought you didn't like me," She said aloud to the darkness, "Like that at least. I thought you didn't care about me." Still stunned, Raylan somehow found the ability to read on as the letter continued with:

_I'm sure the sentence above has at the least startled you. As I've come to partially understand your reactions, I have no doubt that my proposal has left you moderately puzzled. Please, allow me the moment to explain._

Oddly, Raylan found herself nodding, as if she were giving the letter permission to keep going.

_First, let me simply say that I do enjoy your company, immensely. I have never met a woman so open minded and accepting of me, especially to my rather unsavory ways. In these last few days I have felt more at home with you two here than I have ever dreamt possible. You and Ethan, despite our various differences, have given me a gift greater than yards of fabric, candle sticks, and Lakota flutes. You have given me your friendship, your trust, and furthermore accepted me as family. I can not begin to express the depths of my gratitude. I was intending for tonight's Masque Ball to serve as some form of thanks, giving you the life you expressed that you so deeply needed in our last unpleasant confrontation. Still, somehow these simple thanks do not seem fitting enough for you, or perhaps, I desire something more._

Raylan didn't quite understand what he meant, her head tilting slightly as her gaze reached the end of the paragraph. Something more? What on earth was he hinting at?

_I have no doubt of your confusion now._

That line was written alone, and Raylan could swear she could hear his soft amused chuckle ringing someplace in the back of her mind. No malice intended, just simply pleased at how well he had begun to be able to guess her reactions. Raylan out of habit simply rolled her eyes before she continued reading.

_Raylan, these past few nights have been, to say the least, my deepest honor to have spent them with you. Everything, from teaching you to read music to simply seeing you truly smile at me has been more than this carcass deserves. I couldn't ask for anything more, and yet for my own selfish reasons and human curiosity, I am prepared to ask you for one last favor._

She swallowed hard then, unsure if she wanted to read further. What would he ask her? Would it be good or bad news? Would she regret reading it, or would it give her that old thing called happiness? Oh lord, how exposed would it make her? How fragile? Nervously her gaze fell back to the paper, taking in the red words where she had left off and continued slowly.

_It is my intention, if you would have me, to spend tonight's Masquerade at your side. To clarify, as I have no doubt you are staring at this paper as if searching for the hidden meaning in my words, I am simply asking to play the role of your escort. I wish, once again if you will allow me, to spend the evening close to you, as your partner, to dance with, to accompany you in any way possible._

Again, Raylan found her breath catch in her throat and her eyes widen in shock, like she couldn't believe it was true. Was he… was he asking her on a date? She could only slightly feel her jaw hanging limply open and her eyes bulging as she stared absently at the paper, the surprise to thick for her to pay attention to her reactions at the present time. Had he really… was he really… he couldn't be. Again, her gaze read over the paragraph, and then again, and then another three times. Impossible… but he was. It was written right there, in clear read words, without a single flaw. He was asking her to be his date.

"But I don't understand," Raylan finally managed to mutter, as if she expected the letter to jump to life and answer everything for her, "I thought you didn't care for me… and now you're asking me to be your date? Where were the signs?" Raylan didn't need a magical talking letter to answer that question though. The answer came to her just like so many did, from the back of her mind where she buried the obvious truths and pretended to never have noticed. It answered simply that signs had been everywhere, symbols just like her own, discreet and yet so blatantly obvious.

It was the intensity in his eyes every time they met hers. It was the way he spoke to her, kind or vicious but always so full of passion. It was in his reluctance to touch her. It was his smile, no matter how small, when he would lower his walls to her childish enthusiasm. It was in the way he listened to her, in the way he watched her, in the way he said her name. It was in his actions when he'd go stark raving mad over her affections for Ethan, which he still didn't think she noticed. It was the way he guarded her without question, protected her despite all her faults. It was in his music. It was so horribly obvious that Raylan could have slapped herself for being so unbelievably dim-witted. So blind, both of them were so very blind.

After a few batted breaths, Raylan finally found the composure she needed to read on. What was left of his note was simply a closure, the few last apathetic words of uncertainty. They were written without the slightest air of emotion, making his insecurity of what her decision would be even more obvious.

_If you are to accept, I have taken the liberty of providing you a costume for the ball. It should be fitting, and hopefully is to your taste. If my offer is taken, than I am requesting you wear the garments I am presenting. It will suffice as an answer to my question. _

Humbly Yours,

Erik

Raylan stared blankly at the letter for some time after that, not reading it or trying to decipher the meaning in his words, just simply staring. There was no real question in her thoughts, no need to understand. Erik's letter made his intentions perfectly clear. Without thought, she let the letter fall from her grasp to lay upon its silk bed once more, her distant eyes following its decent to the red fabric placed so tenderly atop the mahogany. So it was a dress, a costume made of red silk, the answer to Erik's invite. Funny how such a simple piece of fabric could hold so many possibilities. This single object placed paths out before her that she had never dared to take, goals that she had never let herself wish for, places she could never go before. It placed so many uncertainties, so many wishes, so many choices and consequences in her head that only awaited the answer to a question.

Did she dare to trust, to love, to dance with death?

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Ethan entered the alcove just as some distant chime announced that it was eight o'clock, emerging from the darkness of his labyrinth hall and trudging with frustrated steps into the candlelit foyer. Now greeted by orange candle light, he appeared from the shadows dressed not in his usual carefree, raw American style, but instead presented a rather pleasing surprise. Dressed in the attire Erik had provided for him, Ethan almost resembled some elegant wood elf that one would read of in a fairy tale. The forest green costume draped about his form flauntingly well, showing off his muscular build and handsome complexion. The shade drew out the intensity of his deep sea eyes and golden skin that played a beautiful contrast against his oil black hair, which he had surprisingly combed back for the occasion. All in all, his appearance was a breath of fresh air from his usual rough American persona.

Of course, the air of dignity about him all but vanished as Ethan opened his mouth to shout angrily into the foyer, "God blasted! How in the hell do you get this damn thing to stay clasped?" With one large hand Ethan was fiddling desperately with the cuff link on his right sleeve, the small piece of metal fighting a bloody war against the oppression of staying clasped.

Almost as if on cue, from across the great hall the slightest creek of a door sounded and from behind it the tender brown eyes stared out at him in question. From behind the door her gentle Southern voice asked gently, "Having trouble?"

Ethan's eyes first bolted angrily at her, ready to spit all sorts of sarcasm her way, but as soon as he noticed that his dearest friend was somewhat hiding behind her bedroom door, every emotion changed to the oddest curiosity. "A bit," He answered blankly, and then inquired with slight concern, "Ray… what are you doing? Are you dressed? It's almost time to go."

Her gaze blinked once, fell to the ground, and then rose to meet his again with a look not quite readable for him to guess her thoughts. Her words shook slightly as she answered, a nervous quiver in her usually cool voice as she replied with a timid, "Yes, I'm dressed."

"Good," Ethan responded dully, his eyes still expressing his curiosity of her odd behavior. It wasn't like Raylan to hide from him. It wasn't like her to act so shy. It troubled him really. Raylan was always the strong one, always his rock, and to see such a mighty dynasty even slightly waver was all too unnerving. Laughing uncomfortably, Ethan made for a quick distraction, his eyes lowering to his arm as he fiddled slightly with his cuff links once more, chuckling softly, "I never was good at these things."

Then, as Ethan had expected, his boyish insecurity drew her like a mother to its infant from her den. Ethan heard the soft whine of door hinges first, followed then by the faint clicking of short heels upon a stone floor as she moved slowly from her room. His eyes came up when gentle, feminine hands took his cuff from him, long and graceful fingers clasping the fabric together with absolute ease. Ethan huffed; taking note of how easily she had been able to do it and how much trouble he had with it before muttering the softest thank you.

Raylan in response simply smiled and nodded, saying tenderly, "You'll learn."

Ethan nodded, relaxing a little from seeing his friend find the courage to emerge from the security of her room. He knew what this was about when he met her eyes, knew exactly why she had been so timid and out of character… or so he thought he did.

"Nervous about the Masquerade?" He prodded gently, allowing his free hand to cup hers protectively, "Don't be. No one will recognize us. We'll be in a crowd full of masked people. No one could possibly know us in such outfits."

Surprisingly, Raylan didn't smile as he had hoped, just simply shook her head full of auburn ringlets and sighed with slight discomfort, "It's not that."

With the smallest hint of concern then, Ethan drew her eyes to his, asking almost in a brotherly tone, "What is it, Ray?" Whether it was her odd anxiety or how she suddenly seemed to twitch uncomfortably in her own skin, it wasn't until then that Ethan realized that his dearest friend, not unlike himself, did not look her usual part as Southern tomboy. Curiously, Ethan took a step back from her to get the full effect of Raylan's new appearance, and the result nearly left him breathless.

Her costume was a gown of the deepest shade of maroon, accenting her dark chestnut hair and its subtle tints of burgundy. It draped about her form in a sort of ancient Greek theme, high at the waist with a sash wrapped just under the bosom and two finger thick straps that followed the curve of her body down to the sash, showing off a great deal of deliciously golden skin. A slit in the skirt of the dress ran up to her thigh causing the fabric to ruffle and drape over itself like a queen's train to the point where it rested on the ground. The dress overall had a simple design, accenting her luscious curves and gorgeous figure, flaunting her pure beauty in ways Ethan never could have imagined. On her feet was a pair of simple heels that lifted her maybe an inch from her regular height, red like the dress and matching its simplistic style. Simple yet elegant, a dress that brought out the perfection of her chocolate eyes and her wonderfully curling hair that hung free as ever in all its luscious glory. It was a dress that completed her beauty, a gown that Ethan knew would cause envy amongst the crowds of Aristocratic sameness.

Ethan stood stunned as his eyes rolled across her luscious form, while Raylan's gaze tried to catch his and seek approval. Oddly, Ethan couldn't bring himself to say a word, but instead found himself unable to do anything but stand there gawking like a half-wit. Meanwhile, Raylan once again began to fidget uncomfortably, her thumbs twiddling nervously against her stomach as she felt the weight of Ethan's awe filled eyes.

In reaction, Raylan felt that burn of a blush begin to rise tauntingly into her cheeks, and in attempt to keep the moment from being too uneasy, she offered swiftly, "Well… Ethan… you look handsome. That's a good color for you." She waited then for his usual spunky charisma, but to her displeasure only received Ethan's dumbfounded muttering.

"Ethan?" She prodded, hoping to get a real response opposed to animalistic grunts to come out of her comrade.

Unfortunately, Ethan has still not managed to gain control over his facial functions, even after Raylan made her best effort to close his mouth by pushing up on his chin. His mouth simply fell open lazily and released some made up dialect, causing Raylan to blush even further from the embarrassment than before.

After another moments muttering, Raylan finally released a heavy, uncertain sigh, questioning with the most unusual insecurity, "Does it look right? I'm not sure if I'm wearing it properly, or if I look even the slightest bit similar to high society. I tried to fix my hair better, but after so many years of ignoring it I don't have the skills to make it work right for me. I swear, I am really wishing I had cared more about my appearance in the past now, took a little bit more consideration, or practice, or something. I mean, it isn't like I should know- my number one priority when we've been on the run has certainly not been my hair, but still, I should of-"

Somewhere in the midst of her nervous ranting, Ethan had emerged from his trance, quickly rushing to her rescue from a nervous break down by placing one large finger over her lips and bringing her words to a halt. Instantly, her earthy eyes rushed to his in wild question, only to be soothed by endless blue wave of his own. His charming smile returned then, creasing over his thin lips to deliver that security he knew she needed, his voice filled with the deepest of sincerity as he whispered, "Raylan- every star in the heavens will be jealous of you tonight."

All the stars in heaven, all the idolizing of the Aristocrats, all the lusting of men, all their attention would be on her tonight, and while every eye would see her as lovely, no other gaze could fully appreciate her beauty than the vibrant green stare that quietly observed her from the shadows. Erik could not be more thankful for the darkness than he was now, that smothering night being the only thing that hid his gawking expressions from his company's probing eyes. Surely they would laugh at him if they saw his jaw hanging open as awkwardly as it was, or simply watch him uncomfortably as Raylan did when Ethan had given her the same reaction. Laugh at or scrutinize him, both of which he would openly admit he was not very fond of. Truly, he did wish his body did not react in such a way towards shock, but at the same time, how could he not?

There she stood in all her perfection, a living masterpiece floating in a red dress. That wonderful dress. It was more than just complementing to her figure, more than just a costume completing her beauty, it was an answer. It was the answer to the question that had kept his up all night, anxiety not allowing him the privilege of sleep. It was an answer that made his mind dance with forbidden ideas and once forgotten possibilities. It meant yes, and that alone made his head dizzy from the sheer pleasure of it all. Not to mention he was quite proud of his excellent taste on what style worked for her, and his ability to find the perfect costume for such a dazzling woman. For the night she was his precious rose.

After a moment of watching the two chuckle nervously, Erik took a deep steady breath, forcing his expressions to remain calm and his body to hold its powerful composure as he slid away from the shadows. He entered the light in all his evocative glory, coming to stand tall beside his glimmering organ and softly clearing his throat to allow his companions to realize he was there. As soon as their attentions turned to him, Erik felt the tiniest swell of pride as he caught the fleeting glimmer of excitement in Raylan's gorgeously dark eyes, although his delight quickly faltered as soon as 'the boy' opened his mouth.

Ethan, of course, had to state the obvious as he noted allowed, "Erik… yours and Raylan's costumes match!"

It was true. Although the two did have some noticeable differences in their attire, Erik had decided to go along with the maroon theme for the night, his coat tails and vest the same rich red as Raylan's gown. The slacks were a pure black, as well were the shoes and beaded patterns on his vest. Altogether his attire was simple, yet handsomely fitting and complementing to his strapping form. His face was not covered by its usual half mask, but instead bore a new mask that disguised the entire portion of his face from the bottom of the nose and up, a glossy black with subtle designs stitched in with red string.

His green eyes contrasting against the red of his costume shot near viciously to Ethan, before Erik released a sarcastic response of, "Your skills of observation continue to astound me."

To Erik's surprise, Raylan didn't scold him or send him a cross look for saying such things. She simply laughed for a short while before saying with her usual intoxicating Southern accent, "You boys play nice now. I don't want to have to separate you two."

"Because we are so 'fond' of one another already," Ethan replied, that same quirky grin crossing his lips before Ray punched him playfully on the shoulder.

"Behave," She commanded, and Erik couldn't help but smile at how she took charge, like an alpha wolf claiming her dominance over the foolish pup.

With the smallest chuckle, Erik took the moment to stalk gracefully down towards his friends, in a few moments coming to stand before them as they playfully batted at one another. They ceased their games when Erik extended his hands out from behind his back, holding out to them in his palms to delicate masks that were meant to disguise the face as well as his own. Both were black leather decorated with colored beads to match their outfits. For Ethan the mask was decorated with designs in gold and green beads, while Raylan's was lavished in different shades of red that made intricate designs of elegant beauty.

As his two companions took their respective masks, Erik warned heavily, "You must wear these at all times, and do not take them off until you are safely back here-for your own safety. I don't want either of you getting caught because you couldn't stop some intrigued guest from exposing your identity."

"Honestly Erik," Raylan laughed, smiling as she took the gorgeous disguise from his hands, "You shouldn't worry so much. By now Ethan and I have gotten so good at hiding out identities that I think we even fool ourselves at times."

"Yes! Is my name Ethan, Renold, Jon, or Little Timmy?" Ethan joked extravagantly as he placed the mask onto his face, "Bah, I can't remember who I am! Oh, the cruel irony of it all!"

In response Ethan received a firm elbow in his side from Ray, before she playfully stuck her tongue out at him as she placed the precious mask upon her face. Surprisingly, the masks looked rather fine on both his companions, the wonderfully designed pieces bringing out the intensity and mystery in their eyes.

After a moments more of joking, Ethan finally turned calmed down to say in a rather suave voice, "Well, shall we take our leave?"

"Yes, at this point we will be fashionably late," Erik agreed, his hand gesturing out towards the dark tunnel leading to Ethan's room, "I believe you know the way."

Ethan nodded, "Yes, but we would need to pass through someone's private quarters."

"I'm sure those rooms will be quite empty," Erik said, once again gesturing towards the hall, "No one in there right mind would be spending this night in their room. The noise alone wouldn't allow anyone to rest peacefully."

"Alright," Ethan chuckled, "I shall lead on." Then in a dramatic stance, Ethan took on the air of a member of the militia, marching quickly towards the dark hall.

Raylan watched him with a chuckle and was just about to trail after him when she noticed Erik's arm was politely offered out to her. For a moment she looked at him almost as if he had three heads, and then realizing exactly what he was doing she relaxed, carelessly entwining her arm about his and drawing close to his side. With a tender smile she allowed herself to gaze deeply into those green pools, letting them wash all doubt from her mind and drain every nerve from the pit of her stomach.

With a slight fond squeeze of his arm, she said with the purest of smiles, "You look great."

His green eyes flared with the same fondness, a handsome grin crossing his face as he dipped his head in thanks. Her touch caused his arm to feel weak, tingling with little sensations that ran up his flesh and trickled all through the rest of his body, teasing his senses. Erik replied then, his voice barely above a whisper as if it were a treasured secret between the two of them, "You're stunning tonight."

Raylan could feel the burn of a blush beginning to rise in her cheeks again then, of which she was thankful now more than ever that the mask hid her scarlet flush. After a moments silence she had battled back the burn, and now with a renewed calm she nodded towards the dark passageway, saying with a near mischievous grin, "Shall we?"

"Of course," Erik agreed, smiling once more at her radiant form before he made to lead the way into the masked world above.

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Every rich Aristocrat within Paris had filled into the grand entrance to the Opera Populaire that fine New Years Eve, dressed as shimmering extras to add to the magnificence of the theater adorned in its regal gold. Waves of white and black spun in circles along the Opera's glistening dance floor, forming patterns like a kaleidoscope with uniform colors. The orchestra was placed on a balcony overlooking the grand staircase, playing the elegant dance music that matched the night's festivities with impeccable pace. Everything seemed to shine this night with a light so pure and safe that it was almost heavenly, and almost as if the Opera had never faced the fires of Hell two years back. Now it was reborn with the comforting air of repetition.

When the orchestra changed its tune to a more formal, almost like presenting a Queen to her royal subjects, sounded the dancing came to a halt as all eyes were turned to the staircase. Atop was one of their prominent women of the night, the renowned Chalondra perched in all her glory with that pet for a Patron beaming by her side. She stood radiating in her cream white gown, standing in perfect contrast to the Patrons soot black dress suit, allowing them the ease of having the ability to blend in with the crowds. As the music continued, Chalondra and the Patron began an elegant decent down the staircase, allowing Carlotta, the second prominent lady, to make her grand appearance. She entered the threshold with an extravagant wave of her arm as the crowds gave a short applause, showing off the glittering fabric of her own cream white dress adorned in small diamond beads. At her arm was the pretty boy she had taken for a pet, a younger baritone much more fit than her late Piangi and looking a great deal finer in a suit than her last love. With another grand gesture, Carlotta and her pet descended the staircase as Carlotta continued to wave to the silent crowds as if she were royalty. The music continued, although no one followed after her, the managers holding back its greatest form of entertainment until the end. Instead the music just repeated until the two diva's reached the bottom of the staircase and were greeted with roars of applause. Once the cheering ended, the hall filled with a patient silence as the orchestra prepared for its next piece. In time, the director raised his baton, the orchestra lifting their instruments and turning all eyes upon his hands, waiting for the first beat. Then with an extravagant wave of his hands, the orchestra took a barely audible breath and flew into the new music… a song that now turned the easy emotions of the room upside down as the tune blazed into something similar to an Egyptian dance.

Then as the tune lead into its third measure, an elegant beauty in rich purple leapt from the threshold to the staircase in perfect ballet formation, landing gracefully on the leveled platform before the rest of the stairs that lead to the dance floor. She extended her arms out to the sides and made to give a short bow before flipping her wildly free blond hair back to reveal a face not so humble, but more so grinning with mischief. From below the crowds gave a short gasp of surprise from the appearance of something so out of the norm, most of all the marvelous Chalondra whose jaw had dropped and eyes were peering at the outcast like she intended to drill holes in the young dancer's skull. Still, the young dancer simply smirked at her elder and began her extraordinary show.

Vits was not in the hideous not quite eggshell cream gown her mother had insisted she wore, no anything similar to it. She instead chose the more rebellious path by wearing a costume to make her stick out, a gown of pure purple. Vibrant, rich purple and truth be told it could've hardly been called a dress. Vits was wearing a top that was barely decent, merely covering her small chest with an opening in the middle held close by silver and bronze beaded strings. The sleeves went down to her elbows and puffed out, the silver and bronze chains followed down her arms to her middle finger on each hand. The top ended just below her chest, leaving her well toned stomach bare for all to see chiseled abs. The pants continued the Arabic style in the same vibrant color, as well as a thicker chain around her hips that jingled as she danced. The chains made their way down her legs and ended with shackles around her ankles, in all giving her that outlandish costume like an Egyptian prostitute.

Still, her movements were graceful, and extremely sensual. She knew what she was doing, and it shown in the confidence of her steps and relenting passion as she spun her chains. Her body was extremely flexible as she twisted and leapt into the air following the music's every note with unparallel accuracy. At first her dance was purely show, proving that she could do it, and out shine everyone, but she chose not to, for reasons beyond the aristocrats' fathoming. As the music took a more sensual tone so did her dance, playing off her excellent body. Vits explored her feminist side with beauty, doing splits and spins that dazzled the eye. She expertly exhibited her body, and its grace and beauty.

Still following the music's direction as it took a darker note, Vits brought forth her daggers from the few folds of fabric along her hips. At first they were blurs as she twirled them around her body, tossing them, allowing them to fly through her hands with skill and ease, then the movements slowed down, so they were obvious. Now she conveyed a very important message to the audience: look but don't touch or face the consequence. Following the sensual warning, she dipped into a spin just as the music came to an elaborate end. Counter to the spin, Vits kept throwing and catching her daggers, having them do intricate and intertwining flips and tricks. By the time the music ended, Vits had spun down to the floor, and back up to a standing position. As the orchestra finished its last note, Vits finally took her deep bow, daggers still in hand. However, there was an indescribable feminine twist to her bow, the masculine trait about her vanishing entirely. Then the room was silent. She waited for the applause. It was slow due to the shock of the crowd-few had realized Vits was a female, but they couldn't mistake her dancing-she had been Romeo. After the shock had eased and the Aristocrats had realized that it was all a show the hall erupted into thunderous applause, after what to Vits seemed an agonizingly long amount of time.

The foyer was drowned in cheers then, shaking with the power of applause as every eye captured the exotic beauty exposed before them. She stole every gaze, seized every ounce of praise, and in a matter of speaking, ripped the rug right out from under her predecessors. The lights that the diva's emitted were brutally stomped out in the shadow of Vits grand performance and every guest there felt no shame in admitting that. The Aristocrats would be talking about her all night no doubt for she had gained the lime light... of which three individuals were entirely thankful for as they secretly entered the lobby. All prying eyes had been centered upon the deadly temptress with her spinning blades, and so none had taken notice to the three who entered so ominously.

Erik's green eyes shown with pride as he watched his protégé dance for all to see, her body graceful and magnificent beyond even his imagination. Most of all, he loved the reaction upon her mother's face, the utmost horror at being shown up by the child she had forgotten. It was the sweet revenge Erik wished he could have. At his side Erik felt the gentle tug of his arm as Raylan balanced on her tippy toes to see over the crowd's heads, holding tighter to him to steady herself. With a gentle smile, Erik drew his eyes from the elegant dancer and roaring crowds to his gorgeous companion, chuckling softly at her quiet attempts to get taller.

His gentle laughter drew her eyes then, and once again Erik felt that angelic peace as his fire submerged in the rich earth of her gaze. No doubt she would astound the crowds with her beauty tonight, standing like a vibrant red rose in a field full of white daisies, drawing every eye bored with the dull repetition of the Masquerade and its arrogant Aristocrats. It would not be long before the waves of sameness would calm down from Vits spectacular performance and notice the outcasts, and the beauty at his arm. They would all stare in awe at her, but no one would see the beauty he saw now in her eyes. That look she gave him, Erik knew, that infinite peace was meant for his eyes alone.

Of course, the moment between them was broken once again by the inevitable interruption of the American boy, Ethan popping practically between the two as he asked gently, "Now, is it just me, or are we going to stick out like sore thumbs in this crowd?"

Raylan again tugged gently at Erik's arm as if seeking comfort as she whispered back with acted confidence, "Don't worry Ethan, the more we stick out the less likely it is for anyone to suspect us. No one would think wanted convicts would make an effort to draw attention." At the end of her statement, Raylan's eyes returned to Erik less confidently.

Still, Erik simply smiled and with his eyes still on Raylan assured them softly, "Relax my friends; nothing will happen to you… I promise you this."

That heart melting smile had returned to her face again, but once more the moment disintegrated as Ethan announced sarcastically, "Oh that's comforting."

Raylan replied then to both her companions surprise in the most heart warming voice, her eyes holding fondly to Erik's as she grinned, "It most certainly is."

Erik swelled with a rekindled pride, Raylan blushed, Ethan rolled his eyes and sighed until movement on the dance floor drew his attention away from his flirtatious companions. Over the crowds head, he saw the retreating wave of purple fabric as the cheers died away and the music changed its exotic air to a soft hum. Vits had vanished from view, and now the hall stood in utter silence with the exception of that gentle chord below. The crowds waited in eager anticipation, coming to an almost eerie still that flooded the room with such silence that even to breathe seemed too loud.

Through the silence a gentle whisper was heard in Erik's ear, a soft note that came so tenderly it seemed as if it were coming from the heavens above. The noise pulled his eyes like a moth to a flame from Raylan's comforting gaze, turning his attention upon the grand staircase and the note that took a gentle hold on an old heart and beckoned it to live once more. It summoned him, this pure sound, called his name innocently, and promised him love with all the passions the body could ensue. It drug him mercilessly away from the one who held his arm, who touched him with silent promises that he now found himself ignoring entirely. This music, so familiar and sweet, a sound that filled him with a yearning long since vanished, a music that made him forget the one by his side and think of another. Another…

His Angel…

And then as if God had heard his prayers, as if the angels of heaven had brought her from her castle far beyond to the one she had left behind… she was there.

She was there.

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**-Olivia stands back and looks proudly at her update.-**

**Olivia: You think they'll like it?**

**Sumner: If they do, they'll tell us… or come rampaging into this room and embrace you in a mighty hug before throwing you down and scolding you viciously for vanishing for so long.**

**Olivia: Oh… well… what ever works best.**

**Sumner: So, what will you do now?**

**Olivia: Me? The same thing I try to do every night Pinky!**

**Sumner: Try to take over the world?**

**Olivia: No, that's only on weekends.**

**Sumner: Oh, well what then? Go work on an update?**

**Olivia: Later. A new episode of Lost comes on tonight and I must watch!**

**-Sumner smacks Olivia on the back of the head and walks away.-**

**Olivia: What?**

**-Takes one last look at her update, and then scribbles something on the bottom corner before she takes off running after Sumner. Scribble says: "Thanks everyone! Hugs and love and all that jazz! –Olivia W." which is completed with a small sketch of a smiley face with a half mask on sticking its tongue out at everyone.-**

**-Olivia W.**


	25. Stranger

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the actual Phantom of the Opera… but the original characters belong to the S & O Corporation… aka Sumner and Olivia. **

**Hello everyone! I have returned once again with an update. Yay! I'd throw a party… but that's Sumner one joy in life so she gets to do that. **

**Well, little bit of an update of my life for you all. Sumner & I have both successfully graduated High School. Woot! It's a wonderful thing. So, anyways, we've got time now, or at least until we have to go to college, to update this story more often. Also, I had to drop my job on reasons of scheduling and the fact that a hate my job, so there is more time again. So, yet another reason to throw a party… Sumner… you know what to do.**

**Anyways, let's get this thing started shall we?**

**A Few Thanks:**

**Juilette Delphe- I'm glad you enjoyed that rare opportunity to be the undead. Yes, I love my intro and exit too. I thought it was very amusing, and I would do that every time only I don't have enough time today because I have to go to work. Maybe next time, and we need to work on this story more.**

**theNightEnchantress****- Well I am glad you thought it was so… god? Lol. Just messing with you. I knew what you meant, and thank you.**

**shimmeringtears****- Yea, after writing it I can see what you mean by it being a little too forward, but the point is I was trying to move the story forward and I simply got impatient. Sorry. Still, glad you like the dance and Vits- she's amazing. Thank Sumner there, Vits is her beautiful creation.**

**surf with music****- I always love your comments, they are so energetic and make me feel proud of writing. I'm glad you liked all the various things that happened in the last chapter, and I hope you enjoy what happens in this chapter as well. Sounds like some cool pieces your band is playing, or was playing (if your out of school or not yet). Enjoy band my friend, you'll miss it when it's gone. I already miss band… but it's ok. Keep on playin'! Oh! I also checked out the music you recommended and I agree, totally awesome. **

**Alright yall, well, I've got work today (one of my last few days) so I got to get going. Thanks for the wonderful reviews and I look forward to hearing from all of you again. Hugs, love, and all that jazz,**

**-Olivia N.**

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_What had happened?_ It was the question that cut into Raylan's thoughts like a spot light through the fog. In an instant Raylan had seen that perfect green gaze lose their subtle content and fill with an old pain that clouded his eyes and stole the attention she had been so deeply enjoying. Then as if forgotten, he had turned his face away from her to the black and white masses, of which the violet goddess had vanished and now were to be entertained by a new idol. At first there had been just a hum of music, no louder than the gentle flap of hummingbird wings, and then as the purr began to crescendo the source of the magnificent echo emerged in the threshold.

She didn't know that flawless face that appeared from within the music, presenting herself like an angel descending from the heavens upon the staircase in her flattering golden gown. She didn't know that graceful form with her perfect curls, innocent smile, and soulful eyes, nor did she truly care to. Apparently, this angelic woman was the honor of the night though for as soon as she made her grand entrance, holding that perfectly in tune note within the air like a halo of light, the crowds had combusted with applause far more enthusiastic than anyone else had received. The thunderous noise made Raylan jump in surprise, but it was not even a second before the crowds became silent in obedience to a mere wave of this honored woman's delicate gloved hand. Once again, the ball room fell into an eager silence.

A flute had begun at gentle trill and from it the orchestra rose into a soothing intro, the angelic woman descending the staircase with every step on beat, her delicious eyes clasped fondly upon one face in the crowd near the bottom of the stairs. From the sea of people one figure emerged from the foot of the stairs, a fine fitting man in an elegant black tux that now ascended the marble steps towards the golden angel who offered her precious hand to him. Lovingly, the man took her slender hand, placing a gentle kiss upon it before her came to stand at her side, their arms intertwining as he escorted her down to the dance floor. The crowds parted, allowing the glorious two to make their way to the center of the hall, the music following their poised steps precisely. When they came to a halt, the music also paused, and when they had finally positioned their arms about each other the music began once again, the two beginning an elegant waltz about the room given.

Raylan had half expected the crowds to immediately bleed into the waltz as most dances did, but instead they simply stood there as if awaiting permission. It was after the couple did several rounds before Raylan heard what everyone had been waiting for. The music crescendoed, and with it so did the woman's superb voice, rising to fill the room like a chorus of a thousand angels. Before her the crowds melted at her feet, succumbing to the utter magnificence that was her voice, lowering their endless sea of masked faces to her entrancing air. Everyone stared in awe, everyone idolized and yearned for her, everyone… but one rather confused stranger in a scarlet colored gown.

Somehow, Raylan was entirely unaffected by the angelic singing. She was focused more on her two comrades, both of which seemed to be unusually awestruck. Ethan was staring with wide eyes into the distance where Vits had vanished into the crowds, his mouth hanging limply open of which Raylan was certain he would soon start drooling. She simply shook her head at him before turning her gaze up towards Erik, only to collide with a different form of awe. Her companions always gorgeous eyes had glossed over with tears of the most confusing type, mixed with pride and yet the deepest pain. His face was set into a frown, his jaw tight with irritation and his nostrils flaring occasionally as he blew out rapid, vicious breaths. Raylan's eyes narrowed at Erik's expressions, her gaze asking question she knew wouldn't be answered since he seemed so suddenly unaware of her. What was making him act so oddly? The diva wasn't that good… was she?

Curiously, she followed Erik's gaze then, hoping to discover what caused her Phantom to change his emotions so rapidly. What she collided with was the angelic vocalist, standing there in her escort's arms as she radiated amongst an ocean of sameness with the mere significance of her voice. Raylan's brows creased as she eyed the young beauty. A gorgeous treasure no doubt, her slim figure and gently waving curls in contrast with her porcelain skin and wonderfully full eyes made her a sight to be held, but Raylan had never seen Erik react in such a way towards mere beauty. Was it her voice? Again, Raylan's eyes traveled back to Erik and again she examined him. His expressions told her yes. His eyes always fluttered half closed when he was entranced by the sheer magnitude of music, and they were doing it now. So it was her voice, she determined as her eyes drifted back to the singer. She was lulling him with song.

Raylan gave a small, almost inaudible bitter huff of a laugh as her gaze narrowed on the girl. Of course it was her voice- it was always the one's who could sing! Didn't matter who they were, as long as they could sing! Doesn't matter if they'd accept him, as long as they could make 'beautiful' music of the night together! It was then that Raylan caught the gentle sound of grating, and only then did she realize it was her making the odd noise, absently grinding her own teeth. Immediately she commanded her body to cease the action, her cheeks giving a slight flush of embarrassment behind the protection of her mask. In an act to subdue the burn within, her gaze retreated pleadingly to her long time companion, only to return to another absent face as Ethan continued drooling like a dog with its eyes fixed on the prize across the room.

With the slightest growl of irritation, Raylan again switched her gaze back to her supposed date. In that tiny moment when she hadn't been looking at him though, Erik's expressions had rabidly strayed from sad and awed to a mounting rage as his green orbs flashed violently towards the diva and her lover. Raylan's eyes caught Erik's mounting rage quickly, her gaze expressing concern as she again stole a glance at the young singer and then back to Erik. Again she found herself slightly grinding her teeth, and again had to force herself to stop the action as she attempted for light conversation. Her voice was barely a whisper above the diva's boisterous song, but Ray tried anyway as she drew close to his ear and said cautiously, "She... she's quite good, isn't she?"

"Hm?" Erik breathed, his voice distant because he was obviously absent to Raylan's existence as he said quietly, "Indeed she is."

Oddly, Raylan found his empty response and distant attention to cause her to grind her teeth even harder, her blood suddenly rising with a heat that made her cheeks burn and her gaze strike with a blaze of irritated fire. A slight growl emitted from the back of Raylan's throat before she returned her gaze to Ethan, of who to her dismay was still drooling like a baboon. _What in the name of all things Holy was going on tonight? _Again a foreign rage flared up in Raylan's stomach, creeping its way across her body until she felt the savage urge to slap both of them back into reality. It wasn't natural for either of them to act so weak, so distant. It wasn't natural for them to treat her like she was obsolete… like she was invisible! The bastards! What was so magnificent about those women? About the damn diva? Sure, the little girl could carry a tune, but what was so damn magnificent about her that could steal his attention… her Erik. _Raylan's Erik._

As soon as the tender claim drew itself in her mind, Raylan pulled back, her mouth falling limp as what rational thoughts remained screamed in denial. _No, no, no, no, no! _She couldn't be doing this, thinking these things, feelings these old emotions… not again! No, she made a promise, not just to Ethan but to herself. She couldn't get attached, she couldn't be! And yet from the deep confines of her mind the truth whispered almost manically, _"Too late. Too late to pull back. You're captured again, imprisoned by your own desires… your deserted heart. It's your perfect cage Raylan."_ No! Never again! She swore never again, not another after Arron! She had to be strong, for Ethan, for herself. Her feeble heart couldn't survive another fall, not without the security of wings to fly with, and there was no security here. No safety, no promises, no truth, nothing for certain, so many possibilities, and only one chance.

Oh God, not again.

She had no doubt Erik wouldn't notice her absence, especially as she slipped her arm free and he didn't even give the simplest groan of acknowledgement. Again, Raylan felt that rising fire, the merciless burn of jealousy, but almost as soon as it had emerged she choked the feeling back with a dose of fear. She couldn't let herself feel such impulses, she couldn't allow envy to flourish… she couldn't want him. To want was to hope, and to hope would form the illusion that she could belong in this world, that someone would love the shell she had become… that she would survive tomorrow. A convict couldn't hope, a criminal couldn't plan for the future; the condemned couldn't afford to love.

"I can't do this," She had whispered into the darkness, pleading eyes holding Erik's silhouette as if she were looking at him for the last time, "I can't do this to you." From the pit of her mind emerged that familiar instinct, her only retreat when all plans had failed and all hopes were lost, the one thing she had become sadly good at doing. Run. Escape. Leave, so you can't get hurt. Don't give your heart the chance to fall once more. Get away before you need him. And so she did not fight that dependable instinct, that action that had saved her from death and now would protect her from life… from love. She would run to any place her feet could carry her, to any place away from his beautiful eyes, to any place where she could drowned her heart. Her eyes held Erik's silhouette for as long as her heart could bear, and then stealing one last spiteful gaze at the angelic diva, Raylan turned and entered the masses, seeking for a place where a wilting rose could hide in a field of white and black.

Raylan trailed the outskirts of the crowd; a skilled predator mentally picking apart the herd, investigating her foes. She stalked slowly around the mob of entranced guests, all applauding the enchanting diva hitting the soaring finale before the foyer exploded with cheers wildly celebrating her glory. _Her glory, her beauty, her 'magnificent' voice! _Raylan seethed at the thought, an alpha wolf growling loudly, threatening every person who drew close to her with a single cold glance. Those who stared would quickly have to turn for her eyes shot poison at any person who dared to make a move.

The air of beauty about her was somewhat drowned in the way she moved then, her shoulders tense and legs stomping so heavily with frustration that you'd think she'd punch a whole in the marble floor. Her fists were clenched tight, her nostrils flared, and her jaw turned in such a way as she angrily grinded her teeth that she resembled a cow chewing. It was an ugly sight and Raylan was is no way unaware of how horrid of a vibe she must have been putting off at the time, but truthfully she didn't care. There was comfort in anger. She would fill to the brim with anger, rage inside until all she could hear was the grinding of her own teeth, and there she would be safe. Her rage would burry those feelings that formed a knot in her stomach and tried to make her see. In anger she could be blind to emotion. In anger she wouldn't be jealous nor want anything… nor miss his attention.

Stay angry, it was all she could truly do. So behind the cheering crowds she transformed into a fiery threat, pacing as her grinding grew louder, drowning out the life around her. She churned and pounded until the noise had filled all her senses, until all she could hear, see, and feel was that gnashing rhythm. She could be blind within that sound, that aggressive release that could shelter her from noticing the twisting knot in her stomach.

Unfortunately, in classic Raylan style, it also distracted her from her surroundings, and naturally she soon came to collide with the broad torso of one of the many guests.

It was a man dressed in a neatly pressed black tuxedo who now stood uncomfortably straight, as Raylan looking down attempted to remove the wrinkles of his expensive suit. With that single mistake the raging phoenix she had been just moments ago smoldered into a pile of ash, that strong figure reverting back to an nervously shy Southern girl as she stuttered awkwardly, "Oh god, forgive me. I did not see you. I am so terribly sorry Monsieur. Please excuse my clumsiness."

"It's quite alright Mademoiselle," The man chuckled, but as soon as he spoke Raylan's eyes bolted up to his filled with the utmost curiosity that cut his laughter short. There was something about his voice…

"You're American too I see," The man had rapidly picked his conversation back up, his voice ringing with a pure northern American accent that Raylan easily recognized as hailing from someplace between Pennsylvania and New York.

Slightly unnerved by this, Raylan forgot about his suit and straightened up, her body poised in a tense way as if she would be ready to attack at any moment as she eyed this man curiously. Her words came out slowly and filled with caution as she tried to divert her accent to not sound so Southern, "You picked up on that quick."

Oddly, the man didn't seem to notice Raylan's tension, instead grinning broadly at the woman before him, exposing polished white teeth from behind a half faced white mask. Dark blue, almost black, eyes stared out at her from behind that mask, hungry and brash eyes that stirred a strange sensation in the back of Raylan's mind, a forgotten something.

"I make it a habit to notice these things," The man crooned, giving Raylan a malicious grin that oddly caused her hair to rise on end and her stomach churn with disgust. It was rude to react in such a way to a perfect stranger, and she realized this, but something in her felt odd when she saw this man's smile. Something in her felt threatened.

In a poor attempt to make an exit, Raylan said hastily, "Well... seems like you're unharmed… I do apologize. Now, please do excuse-"

It was then that the man quite bluntly interrupted her, saying with more so of a demanding tone than a question of, "Would you like to dance?" At first Raylan shook her head and side stepped to walk about the man, but the stranger instead persistently stepped in front of her, commandingly offering his pristine white gloved hand out to her just as the orchestra picked up a waltz and the crowds mingled into a swirling cloud of gowns and tuxedos.

"Uh," Raylan stuttered, staring at his hand as if it were made of snakes, "I don't..." She glanced wistfully towards the crowds, with the empty spot where her companions had abandoned her for the 'perfect woman'. _Had they gone?_ Raylan's eyes danced nervously back to the man, carefully appraising him and then bolting eagerly back to the crowds. _Where was He?_ Her partner had elusively disappeared as always. He had vanished into the masses as if he had never been there, like usual being gone when she needed him the most. Probably off staring at his little goddess, Raylan seethed, and her cheeks once again burned with an almost unprovoked hatred.

In one last attempt her eyes scanned the crowds, though her eyes did not find the one she was searching for but instead the glimmering angel in her handsome husband's arms, twirling gracefully upon the dance floor, wrapped in the air of love. Raylan glared at the little girls curly head for just a moment, until finally she had caught that distant blur of red that she knew for certain would be her Erik. There was a fleeting air of relief, until Raylan noticed where Erik was, perched in the farthest corner of the semi-circle surrounding the dancers, his gleaming eyes staring with an old longing for the young diva on the dance floor. That 'perfect' girl, that little whore, that arrogant bastard! He had forgotten about her entirely, he had forgotten about the one who actually cared, who noticed he was there. He had forgotten the one who wanted him, of course! Raylan once again heard the grinding of her teeth as she saw this, again felt the tightening in her chest, and the rush of boiling blood to her cheeks. He had forgotten all about her! God, why did this hurt? Why did she have to care? It was then that a light bulb went off in her mind, a light that flickered dangerously with careless rage as she made a decision. If he had forgotten her than she would forget him! With bitter eyes Raylan faced the man with a renewed rage and strong determination, placing a surprisingly strong grip on the man's hand as she practically growled, "Yes, I would."

It was almost inhuman how quickly Raylan had pulled the man along then, practically dragging him behind her as she emerged from the crowds and paraded upon the dance floor. She had stopped along the outer rim of dancers, spinning about quickly to face the stranger and placing a firm but poised hand on his shoulder. The man oddly wasn't fazed by her roughness though, smoothly taking one of her hands in his and placing the other firmly on her waist. After an elegant pause, the two had blended in to the circle of waltzing couples; at first in silence as the man lead Raylan along on the dance. They had made one round on the dance floor, of which once complete Raylan had allowed herself to give a fleeting look to where Erik had been. Oddly, Erik had once again vanished from his position. On the second round, the man had impatiently cleared his throat, drawing Raylan's attention to his spying eyes.

"Looking for someone?" The man asked with an odd sense of knowledge in his tone.

"No," Raylan spat back defensively, and then in attempt to change the conversation said quickly, "So… Monsieur?"

"Names aren't important," He demanded, making it clear that this was a final rule.

"I agree," Raylan sighed, slightly eased that she wouldn't have to make up some name off the top of her head, "So Monsieur… we've concurred that we are both American. So what brings you to Paris?" Slowly, Raylan forced a casual smile, giving a fleeting look over the mans shoulder on their third way around and once again seeing nothing. No Erik.

"I'm here on business," The man said almost harshly, once again snatching Raylan's eyes forward, "In need of tying up a few lose ends."

"Ah," Raylan said, finding it harder to hold that smile as the man's eyes drew even more threatening, "Then we have the same story Monsieur."

In response, the man gave a short cackle that sent an odd shiver down her spine, "You're here on… business?"

"In a way," Raylan replied coldly, and then taking another almost eager glance into the crowds, she questioned with an air of disinterest, "So tell me Monsieur… what is your business in?"

Again the man laughed maliciously, and again Raylan's gaze snapped to look at his oddly before the man strangely stopped the waltz, twirled Raylan out, and brought her in to where her back was shoved aggressively against his chest. With one arm wrapped about her waist and the other over her chest, the man pinned her in a sort of bare hug against himself, a hold that suddenly sent shocks of pain and warning up her spine and into her head. Raylan gave a twist, trying to move from the man's arms but found herself unable to do so. Her heart had begun to thud rapidly against her chest, but for the moment Raylan forced herself not to squirm and at least have appearance of being calm. After all, there was no need to panic with a man that posed no threat.

"My profession," The man had whispered then as if hissing a terrible secret into her ear, "is in hunting down those convicted of serious felonies and returning them to their rightful justice. I am here to catch a criminal, convicted of armed robbery and the murder of thirteen Americans."

Now she could panic.


	26. Lets Dance

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Hey everyone! This is going to be very short because I don't have much time. I wanted to put this update up before I vanish for a week without a computer to work with, so this is what I am doing. I am not going to do the thank you notes this time because I don't have time because people are screaming for me to get moving, but I promise I will do them the next time and make up for it. **

**Just so everyone knows I am being dragged to Texas to visit my hill billy family I don't know. Yay… **

**Anyways, I hope yall enjoy. Sorry I can't write more. I still love everyone and I did read your comments and appreciate. Thank you everyone. God bless.**

**Hugs, love, and all that jazz,**

**-Olivia N.**

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Raylan just felt as if all her internal organs had decided to rise up and settle in her throat, chocking back the very ability to breathe as she stood there in utter horror. In that exact moment everything seemed to freeze around her, every dancer paused in their waltz and every surrounding conversation turned to whispers in her ears. Every shimmer of beauty, of love and redemption, every little treasured promise suddenly became meaningless. Inside she felt nothing, not a single ounce of life running through her veins, although her mind someplace deep beneath the haze assured her that her heart was beating like a conga drum against her rib cage.

She couldn't feel it though; she couldn't sense a thing in this world that now seemed so completely wasted. All there was were those few haunting words dimly flashing in the back of her mind, hopelessly crying 'run, escape, survive'. She couldn't though, the stranger had made certain of that. She couldn't run anymore. This was it; the finale in her exhausting tragedy, the part she always knew was coming for her, the part where justice had its revenge. It was about time. She'd been running for too long anyways. Still, her thoughts had somehow found a single strand of hope, one last wish. She wished she could say goodbye to Him, just once, to thank him for trying to save her and for...

All of a sudden it hit Raylan like a hammer to the head and her world jumped drastically back into reality, where the earth still moved and the party continued on, the two grasped so tightly against one another in the middle going on unnoticed. She breathed then, taking in heavy gulps of air as her eyes desperately searched the surrounding crowds. If she could just find him, just get him to notice, maybe on some chance of luck he could save her again. God if she could only find him.

"Erik," Raylan muttered half consciously to herself, "Where are you?"

Of course, the stranger caught her little whisper, and leaning in close to her ear the man practically snarled, "What did you say my dear?"

"I was," Raylan paused, being careful to control the steadiness of her voice, "I was, uh, wanting to ask if you had found the vermin yet."

Just as rapidly as before, the man spun her out, freeing her before bringing her back in, only this time where she was facing him so her chest was pressed brutally into his. His smiled, that sickeningly malicious smile that made Raylan's stomach cringe before he said with almost an air of amusement, "Not yet, but I have some theories. We were tipped that our criminal might be hiding in this very opera house, which isn't wonderful because it is quite a vast place and our little villain has a way with vanishing into thin air. But no worries Mademoiselle, I have a few tricks of my own to catch this convict."

"Oh," Raylan stuttered, praying to God that her face wasn't flinching in panic as much as her insides were, "Well, I hope you find her."

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Across the room, a great red predator moved through the crowds surrounding the dance floor, fantastic green eyes scowling out from behind a black mask that kept the powerful creatures identity a mystery to the living world. Like a prowling lion he stalked through the herds of Aristocrat's, but the great creature didn't seem to be taking notice in any of the guests that took such an interest in him. Instead, his gaze scanned the heads of the room, looking for that single rose that would surely stick out in such a crowd.

Raylan…

The Phantom had only moments ago broke free of the feeling of being awestruck by his former protégés voice, only to awake to the lack of warmth by his side where his Raylan should have been. So there he was, pacing through the crowds at a rapid speed as he tried both to find his woman and also to restrain the urge to scowl at Christine who was happily dancing with that insolent boy of a husband. Absent mindedly Erik shuttered at the thought of that dimwitted Raoul holding such a title- a husband.

Again, Erik shook himself and forced his eyes to return to their task, searching for the one who actually wanted to be with him. Or at least he had thought, until his eyes by chance wafted across the dance floor only to see the very woman he had been holding in such high esteem dancing with someone else. It was strange that the first thought that crossed Erik's mind was that the man his Raylan had so recklessly decided to mingle with wasn't a good dancer, or at least not anywhere near to his own skills. The second though was the true crime, that his Raylan was dancing with someone else.

Erik bristled at her insolence and came to a fleeting halt in the mass of crowds to glare viciously at the girl in red. Didn't she know what he had gone through to get her here tonight? Did she not respect the audacity it took for him to ask her for the night? And now she was dancing with some one else! Once again Erik felt the blood rush to his cheeks, the skin burning uncontrollably, the locking of his jaw, and the clenching of his fists so hard that he knew his knuckles must have turned white. Jealousy, he knew this feeling all too well. It was nothing new, he had felt it numerous times for this girl, but this time it was different. This time he wasn't going to sit back and take it. She was supposed to be with him, and only him, and by God no selfish fop was going to take her from him. Not this time- they couldn't have this woman.

Infuriated, the Phantom of the Opera let his rage drive him, and without any air of consideration he stalked over to his partner, his eyes narrow slits, and his voice cold to the gentleman as he asked viciously, "May I step in?"

Raylan and the stranger both snapped their gazes to Erik at the same time, although one was a great deal more pleased to see him than the other.

"Erik," Raylan sighed, her voice bordering dangerously on the edge of relieved. The stranger on the other hand seemed completely offended by Erik's tone and lowered his hands to take an even firmer hold on Raylan's waist as if he had no intention of letting her go.

He replied then almost with the same curtness as Erik as he practically snarled, "No, you may not. I'm afraid I am in need of the young ladies services right now."

Erik's lightening gaze struck viciously at the stranger before he responded in the same manner, "That young lady's services belong to me, as I am her date." His tone was deadly, laid heavily with threats that his fully intended to carry out if the arrogant ass didn't leave.

Surprisingly, the man didn't seem to care, although his grip did somewhat lessen on Raylan's waist. "Is that so?" The man grinned, his words laced with deadly pleasure, "Well, she didn't tell me she had a suitor. Please pardon me sir, but this woman and I have quite a bit to discuss."

Again Raylan's gaze turned to look at the stranger with eyes so wide she looked terrified, and then her gaze immediately snapped back to Erik with a gaze that screamed 'help me'.

For a moment Erik paused to read Raylan's eyes. Her fear was obvious, but whether it was because of the man or him he couldn't tell. Either way he was starting to grow tired of the bastard. Erik's tone changed then, trying a different approach to a softer, mocking tone. "Monsieur, I cannot imagine what you two must discuss. However, I highly doubt the topic is suitable for a Masquerade," Erik gave a somewhat curt smile, "Therefore, I must ask the Mademoiselle to accompany me to the dance floor for the next dance-which is about to begin."

The man for a moment seemed to pause as if he didn't know how to react and then hesitantly suggested, "Well, I could take her-"

Erik quickly retorted, noting the strangers hesitation and using it to his advantage as he argued, "Now, that wouldn't be fair to me, would it? Seeing as you stole the dance with her from me, shouldn't I have the second? It is the least you could do, seeing as she is my date tonight, and you stole what is rightfully mine."

Surprisingly, Raylan eagerly nodded and then switching her view back to the stranger said as politely as she could, "He is absolutely right. It was terribly naive of me to make such a foolish move. I should certainly make up for my mistakes."

Just as the man began to protest, Raylan forcefully slipped out of his confusion weakened arms and quickly paced over to Erik's side. Their gazes crossed for a moment, Raylan's cool earth filled with pleading whilst his fierce green seemed to only blaze with rage. Lowering her head in almost shame, Raylan paced behind Erik as if to use his body to shield her from the stranger. Once she had felt safe behind Erik though she returned her gaze to the man, forcing a pleasant smile to form across her face as she shakily suggested, "Perhaps we may discuss these matters later on the veranda, in a place a little more private?"

The man looked at her then as if he had just had his favorite toy stolen from him, then back to her towering escort. He was obviously furious with the whole ordeal, but not wishing to cause a scene he yielded regretfully. The stranger gave a slight bow to the both of them just for traditions sake, and then returning to his full height he bravely locked his gaze with Erik's. "Well," The stranger growled.

Just for mocking sake Erik replied with a curt, "Yes?"

Again the stranger bristled, but holding his composure the man made one last threat as he practically demanded, "Don't run off. I intend to see her again."

Erik gave a simple nod to satisfy the stranger's persistence. After a moment more of staring, the man finally gave up and stepping back from the couple, he pushed his way into the crowds only to vanish all together within them.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Erik finally spun about to face his Raylan who was still standing there in silence with her head lowered in shame. She no doubt thought he would yell at her, but to her surprise Erik's first move was to boldly put his hand around her waist and draw her close to dance. Raylan's eyes bravely lifted up to his, filled still with shame but now also with confusion.

"We should dance," Erik said in a forced calm, although his tone still lingered with a restrained rage, "We will dance… and then you should come up with a very convincing reason for me to forgive you for this. Understood?"

She had to bite back the instinct to defend herself and begin throwing insults at him for suggesting she had no good reason for leaving him earlier, but the music had not given her the chance anyways. The next dance began, and complying to routine, Raylan placed one hand on his broad shoulder and the other in his hand.

"Completely," Raylan growled, her eyes boldly glaring into the fire of his own, "Let's dance."


	27. Mistakes

**Hey yall! I have an update for you all today! Yay! I know it has taken some time but please forgive me because I am making that transition from high school to college right now and am beyond distracted. I actually move away to college in four days from now, but no worries because I will still update this for you all. Like I have said before, I am not giving up on this story and I intend to finish it. :)**

**Anyways, thank you all for your kind reviews and comments. I'm beyond grateful for your support for this story and I appreciate every last one of your comments.**

**Now I won't waste anymore time. Here is the update!**

**Hugs and all that jazz,**

**-Olivia N.**

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Skeletal fingers tightened like a noose around her fragile wrist, Erik's death grip nearly crushing the bone beneath Raylan's tender skin as he forced her on to the dance floor. His threateningly vibrant eyes narrowed harshly on each blissful couple they passed as he dragged his fickle date along, loathing every last perfection who was blessed with the gift of happiness. How he despised the irony of how such brainless creatures could receive love with little to no effort. But no, that wasn't the point now; it was instead the matter of the sadly mortal act of betrayal.

His mind reeled with indignation at her actions, the woman who owed him so much and yet lacked the loyalty she had pledged to him. Lord, why had he been so lenient? Never should he have brought her to the surface, what a stupid mistake! He should have been wiser than that. Raylan was like a caged bird, even the slightest gift of freedom and she would try to flee the cage that sheltered her and protected her from those who would wish her otherwise dead! Curses, why did he ever allow himself to think she'd stay of her own free will? And then there was the matter of dancing with that stranger. Had she no since of courtesy or was she intentionally trying to anger him with such an insolent act? Did she have any idea as to how difficult it had been to simply ask her to accompany him? No! Of course not! She had always been so utterly aloof in her bizarre world! God in Heaven! He never should have asked such an untamed woman to be his, or for that matter, never should have allowed her into the protection of his home! What a fool he had been! Again he had allowed womanly charms to blind him, but no more! Christine had been enough to end a man's life; Raylan would most certainly not be given the same pleasure.

Erik's anger bristled the more he reflected on her abandonment, past memories dredged up opening old scars that poured into his mind. Raylan was the same as all the rest! She too would leave him because of his hideousness, of his curse that was too ugly for any mortal or angel to bear! Her past promises of acceptance were the old lies, and like all woman in his life, Raylan would abandon him for dead! Just like his mother, just as Christine, and many many more had! His grip tightened as he came upon the floor, his mind taking slight pleasure in how her bones gave so easily beneath his touch. With one elegant sweep his arm gracefully whipped her around to face him, his stubborn hold clearly showing that he had no intention of letting her go. Instead he lifted her hand to his mouth as he stiffly bowed, never touching her flesh with his dead lips but simply waiting almost mockingly. She didn't need to feel Death's kiss…yet. Erik waited expectedly for her then; his cold green eyes daring her to disobey-to make a false move. Part of him yearned for her to make a mistake, so he could cruelly correct her, forcing her farther into his trap… or possibly pushing her farther away, but tonight he didn't care. Damn listening to foolish emotions, he only wanted revenge now.

Raylan had frozen for a moment, obviously unclear as to what path she would choose to take. To run or to stay was the real question, and what were the consequences of both? Hate, friendship, battle, betrayal, fear, lust, pain, truth, love, death, so many answers to so many unsatisfying endings. Now there was the choice, of which she neither wanted nor was ready to make. Instinctively she found his eyes, almost as if she were searching for the hidden answer in those vibrant pools, but the shock of unforgiving fury in his gaze had taken her by surprise and all she could do was simply lower her glance in disappointment. It was only then that she realized exactly how he was standing and how he had raised her hand so dangerously close to his thin lips, her fingers giving a slight twitch as if beckoning him to take the dare.

After a moment it had somehow registered in the whirlwind of her thoughts that he was awaiting her formal return, or more so commanding it through his threatening gaze. Raylan had first thought to never return it, to stay stubborn and refuse him the satisfaction of obedience, but after some thought it had seemed the more logical approach to smoothing things over. With a rather swift and uncultured movement, she curtsied and then rose to stand stiff and uncertain before him, all the while chewing on her bottom lip in attempt to keep her American bluntness restrained.

And so they bled into those intricate patterns of black and white swirling about the floor, falling into the common waltz as if their entrance into the whole routine had not been odd at all. Maintaining his death grip, Erik spun his date around the floor, his movements fluid and graceful as normal and Raylan's submissive and gentle as expected. Still, there was no mistaking the burning anger behind the masks of both parties, their flaring eyes being the greatest give away.

Erik had spun her once more to face him, bringing her a dangerous close suddenly, his voice low and harsh as he questioned bitterly, "I must wonder if you fully understood the implications of being my date tonight. I fear you didn't. Perhaps you'd like me to explain them to you now?" His grip tightened as he set her up for a spin, daring her to disagree with him.

Raylan bit her tongue as the pressure worsened in her wrist, her left eye giving a slight twitch as she turned. "If you must," She had forced herself to reply, her voice emerging with a strain as if she was struggling for air.

Erik offered a grim smile as he spun her, in perfect time with the music. "For starters, my dear, the first dance always belongs to your date," His hissed, his eyes narrowing critically, "Not some high ranking American stooge. Secondly, loyalty. Something Americans know very little about-" He paused for effect, knowing it would push her over the edge, "-being a young country. Either way, I expect you to stay by my side. It is at least courteous!"

Again Raylan found herself tearing at her lip as she fought to keep her words to herself. However, his mockery of her country had indeed struck a nerve in Raylan's side and she found herself saying rather bitterly, "That was my initial intention dear, but I'm afraid we crude American women find it rather difficult to play the companion when our host is quite obviously yearning for another."

"So you give into your natural urge to run?" He responded harshly, his eyes glowing a deepening, kindling yellow. He made the dance graceful and exquisite, with the hard touch of force, allowing her to make no move on her own with out his explicit direction. "Another American trait I assume?" He added mockingly, "Or just that of a coward?"

Raylan instinctively spat back, "You tell me? You are after all quite familiar with being a coward."

Erik's eyes narrowed at her, his fingers twitching with lust for his lasso. Her impertinence was astounding! "That is a weak assumption for one who can not comprehend what I have gone through," He growled. How dare she! Again he spun her, this time his anger getting away from him as he made the spin too tight and harsh, causing her to stumble.

Raylan, despite how much she hated to seem weak to him at that very moment, grasped his sleeve for support as she lost her footing. Yet in a second she had composed herself, using his arm for leverage as she rose back to meet his uncompromising gaze. Raylan noticed then just how weak her own arms had begun to feel, likely from what she knew was a lack of blood flow through Erik's harsh hold. Still, her tone had not changed, remaining just as cruel as his hands as she growled, "Well whose fault is that? I have tried endlessly to know you Erik and despite my attempts and my honesty to every one of your prying questions, you have never once given me the means to understand you."

"You have yet to prove that you are different from anyone else," He responded with icy coldness, again his hands wrenching the life from her fragile wrists.

"Haven't I?" Oddly, Raylan only seemed to laugh mockingly at this, "God in heaven, you can't be serious. Are you really that blind Erik or just too self-absorbed to notice?"

His hands clenched tighter. Truly, he didn't understand why he endured her harassment; he had killed for much less. His teeth ground in anger, his tongue seethed with retorted remarks. "Self-absorbed? My dear perhaps you are so blind that you do not see the fate you have stumbled into. I spend most of my time recovering from the blunders you and your idiot friend make. Perchance if you stopped trying to escape what you asked to get into, I would not have to be so secretive!" His voice rose in anger then, not loud enough to disturb the crowds yet, but enough to be over heard by the couples dancing close to them.

"Please," Raylan spat, giving an aggressive clench to his shoulder, "You never had any attention of explaining yourself to me, despite our attempts. Your soul intention was to keep us locked away like one of your little contraptions from the beginning, because of your ridiculous obsession with power. And for the record, I have never wished to escape you or this place once, until now, because it is only bluntly obvious how very little you trust or care for someone like me. Apparently, your tastes are for the naive kind." With a jerk of her head she gestured towards the diva that had enchanted Erik before, never once realizing how true her statement actually was.

"Madame you know not of what you speak. I suggest you hold your tongue before you say something truly grievous, and can not make amends," His eyes narrowed, to thin glowing slits threatening to consume her conscious by fire-a devious murderous fire that held no appeasement.

"Don't threaten me Erik," She hissed unwaveringly, her usually gentle smile now forming into an almost animalistic snarl, "Threats solve nothing. Besides, you wish for me to cease my American habits than I suggest you come up with a more cunning reason for me to stop than empty threats for I have no intention to hold my tongue when you can't hold yours."

"What insolence!" Erik hissed well above a whisper, anger steely glinting in his eyes, "They truly do not teach manners in America-particularly towards those you have let you into their home, as well as keeping you safe and hidden. As you asked me to do! You should well remember your place!" Erik's tone was harsh and threatening like never before. Anger rang out of his voice and eyes as he tried to prevent himself from wringing the girl's neck before every watching eye. His hands had drifted from her own to clinch her shoulders an unholy tight, allowing for no escape, and he had not intention of releasing her until she apologized!

It was his mistake though, first for his arrogance for treating her like some disobedient pet and second for freeing her hands. Rage had flared up in those earthy eyes of hers, and as the calm burned away from the very core of them, her hands came to deliver the message her mouth could not form. In an instant her hand had slapped hard against his unmasked cheek, striking him with such power that the cracking sound of the impact reverberated over the crowds and the muffling music, bringing all the attention of the room upon them. Raylan took no notice of the crowds though, her eyes remaining fixed on Erik's turned head as her throbbing hand came back to her side, her gaze never once showing any remorse for showing him such scorn.

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Vits hadn't looked for him after her performance. Despite every yearning in her soul she didn't dare search the masked faces, knowing it was too much to expect the condemned to brave the mortal world. Even for a masquerade, it was simply too dangerous with the penalties of being caught so horribly high. It was a doomed hope to think they would come, to dream of once more being swallowed by the depthless ocean of his eyes. It was, after all, only a bitter let down.

She had escaped to the veranda when the magnificent Christine had finished her grand show, praying dearly that by some means of luck the Phantom had not heard his Angels song. Lord knows, Vits didn't want this vulgar world to plummet into any further chaos than it was already in. The breeze worsened as Vits's body temperature adjusted to weather outside. She realized how scant her clothing was then, mentally laughing at her own foolishness as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep her thin body from shivering. Her eyes glanced upward at the stars out of habit, remembering the cold nights on ships, and the watches. She loved to watch the stars and could stare at them for hours, remembering their names, the constellations, and even the stories behind them. At a port on the Ivory Coast, Vits remembered how an African woman taught her about astronomy, and what the constellations meant. As a brief indulgence to the past, Vits told her own fortune-for kicks. She was rarely right, but then again, astrology wasn't exactly scientific. However, the stars read something about forgiveness and true love tonight, something Vits highly doubted for truth.

Then, as if it were perfectly timed by fate, an answer to her doubts flickered in the background as the most gentle of voices came to her, that rich American accent standing apart from the roar of French Aristocrats as it commented with a cautious conversational tone, "Beautiful night tonight. The skies are clear, perfect for star gazing."

Vits spun around in shock, half ready to attack out of sheer habit until her eyes met the ones that she longed for the most. "I didn't think you'd come tonight," She whispered, her tone curious and cautious, playing the field before she truly let herself relax.

Ethan's grin shown with a missed warmth below the glittering mask that hid the upper half of his face, that same always constant charming smile as he laughed, "What? And miss a wonderful opportunity to see the surface? And you. I wouldn't pass the chance up for anything. Besides, our great over Lord has gone through a change of heart and invited us to accompany him, which refusing might send him spiraling back into the black abyss that he was, so we decided not to reject his offer."

Vits chuckled, "Yes, please don't piss him off. I don't think this place could stand another one of his fits of rage." She cast her eyes around inside, trying to spot them, with no luck. "I didn't see any of you."

Ethan grinned, "We've learned our fair share of how to appear invisible... I suppose we just blended in well with the outskirts of the crowd... although I can not see how anyone would miss Raylan. She looks wonderful tonight... nearly as beautiful as you, but still she can not compare."

Vits smiled, "I'm sure Raylan can be extremely beautiful when she wants to-and she doesn't have to run around half naked to do it."

Ethan sighed, "True... but you are tantalizing half naked so I am not complaining."

Vits chuckled wholesomely, truly delighted to have such playful conversation once more with him. "Behave; I'm not afraid to use my knives, even on you," She teased, her body relaxing some what. Her guard was still half up, waiting for someone to jerk the rug out from underneath her, but that came from living an unpredictable life.

Ethan gave a dramatic sweeping bow, billowing out the forest green cape that Erik had given him and then rising again just as theatrically. "I'm always a gentlemen," Ethan grinned back, and then added with almost childish enthusiasm, "And I have a cape... which automatically gives me the power of mystery and seduction which your knives are powerless against." Again, another dramatic swishing of his cape before he let himself rest against the side of the threshold, folding his arms over his chest as he smiled gently Vits way.

Vits burst out laughing in result, "You're absolutely hopeless you know?"

Ethan nodded, "So I have heard... on countless occasions."

"Just making sure you know," She teased, sticking her tongue out at him playfully.

His lips gave a slight smoldering grin as he commented towards her tongue, "Careful, that gesture can be taken as suggestive."

Surprisingly, Vits sidled up to him, wanting to lean against him, but not sure if she should. So instead she stood mere inches from him, trying to keep some warmth. She gave him a sly, very suggestive smile and a wink, "You can take it however you want. I won't object."

He's response was strange though, not the playful bit he always seemed to come back with but instead an air of seriousness as he questioned, "Can I take it as an apology then?"

Vits gave him an odd look, "An apology for what? I merely stated the truth."

"In our last argument?" Ethan questioned and then replied almost bitterly, "A cold, heartless truth? More like a lie seeing as you let nothing come from your heart."

"Ethan, I can't afford to let myself be led around by delusions. I have to live in the real world," She paused looking into his eyes, "I love you… yes. But I'm not going to be so foolish as to assume that once you leave, I will ever see you again." She had half expected anger to flare at this statement, but to her dread she was given a look much worse than anger. A look of disappointment.

"I had hoped," Ethan said, drawing his eyes to the polished marble of the balcony, "I had hoped that in my absence you would've changed your mind."

Vits stepped directly in front of him, forcing him to meet her eyes. Her voice was tender as she questioned, "Ethan, explain to me anyway you can see us being together after your departure? That will still allow for your safety."

"Come with us," Ethan said, in a surprisingly quick manner that clearly meant he had given the notion some thought.

"And who will cover your ass?" Vits retorted harshly, "Who will keep the police off your tails? Who will mislead them? And what happens if you get caught? If I'm with you-all I can do is watch you both hang. If I'm here, I'll be able to at least try to save your damn hides."

"You can't save us Vits," Ethan said, a calm acceptance in his voice, "Not you, not Raylan, not even the Phantom in all his power. Raylan and I have committed sins not worthy of forgiveness, and we've come to accept this. We can keep running, we will always keep running, but they will never stop chasing us, and no matter how hard you try darling... no matter how much you mislead them, you can not delay the inevitable. I know I will die by the noose. I know I will most likely not live to see fifty. That is why I try my best to make good use of the life I have left, and spend it as happily as I can. You bring me joy, more happiness than I have felt in so many years. I want to hold on to the love for as long as I can, and if I must run, then I ask you to come with me knowing fully the risks, simply because I know that the day we are found is not far away and I want to be able to spend those last moments of my life with you."

Vits forced herself to look away, and stare at the bustling city below, knowing that she couldn't let herself believe him. She dragged her body to turn around and lean against the balcony railing, letting the wind sort through the thoughts in her head. She desperately wanted to go with him. Part of her already said yes, but she couldn't let her emotion over run her reason-no matter how hard it tried, no matter how much she wanted it to.

"Ethan, if I can get you a year, six months to live, a week, then my pain will be worth it. If I can give you one chance that you didn't have it will be worth it to watch you go. Being willing to give up your life is how you lose it. On a ship, the man who doesn't care any more gets foolish-and he will die, and it won't be pretty. I've watched them. You maybe ready to give up your life. You may be ready to die, over a girl. But damn it," She slammed her fist on the marble, "I'm not. I'm not willing to let you die. Nor am I willing to let you hand over your life so may have a few moments with me. That's not the man I love, and you bloody well know it." There was a moment of silence then, the hollow sound of a future lost before she turned back to face him, fierce tears in her eyes as she replied forcefully, "I'm not willing to hand you over to the noose with out the best damn fight I can give. And it hasn't even started."

Ethan watched her gaze in silent defiance, but as the swelling tears lifted to her eyes his expressions melted into tired acceptance. With a slight bow of his head and a weary sigh on his lips Ethan replied softly, "As you wish." His words drifted off coldly almost like the dreaded finale of some Shakespearian tragedy, and then he looked away, solemnly into the night sky as he whispered, "Raylan and I will leave when the time is right, when we're ready to... to let go."

Vits hated herself at that moment for she saw the very last strands of hope in his eyes slip away, but she knew she had to do it. She had to let go to save them. Weakly, as a small notion to ease the pain and soothe both their heavy hearts, she whispered, "There's a saying on the ship I lived on. 'Live while you can'. Pirates don't live long, but they live their life to its fullest while they have it."

"That's what I was trying to do," He remarked almost coldly, and then clenching his jaw in regret tried again in a gentler tone of, "It's a wise way to live."

"Yes, it is. But that doesn't mean it's the best," She continued, "On a ship, any number of things can go wrong-just as in reality. Just because they drink a lot, and carouse as much as possible, doesn't mean they don't take precautions to make sure tomorrow comes."

"Leave, I get it," Ethan said suddenly very bitterly, "If that's all you're concerned about then I will go Mademoiselle and pack my things." He then snappishly pushed himself from the wall, giving a quaint bow before making as if he meant to storm off into the darkness below.

Vits bit her tongue to prevent from yelling at him. She took a moment to push her anger at the world out on him. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her tone was cold as she tried to control her anger, "Ethan, I don't want you to go. If you think there isn't a moment when I wish I had your arms around me, you're wrong. If you think I don't miss your voice, your touch, your smell. I do. I miss you very much. And Ray-more than you both can imagine. I'm alone up here-at least you two have each other. I have to prevent our secret from getting out-no matter how hard my mother tries to find out. I have to bow down and lick the patron's fucking boots to save your hides. And I do it gladly. And I would do it again, a thousand times over if it meant I could save your lives, if I could buy you more time, I would do anything. Believe me." Her green eyes shown with the sincerity of her words.

Ethan halted as soon as her voice came to him, gentle as a cool ocean breeze and he turned to face her. His eyes sought hers, those gentle sincere eyes, the ones he tried so hard to be angry at and was finding he was failing miserably at doing. All he wanted to do was hold her, love her, let her know just how much he cared and respected her every sacrifice, but all he could manage to choke out was a solemn reply of, "I know." And then the moment was lost in the all too familiar shouts of voices he knew so well.

Almost grudgingly he turned his attention from her eyes to screams coming from the now oddly quiet dance hall behind. As he listened, cold realization settled on his gaze and Ethan's stomach twisted nauseatingly as he caught a Ghost's voice launching above the others, that usually calm and annoyingly captivating tone breaking into a threatening howl as his words exploded loudly, "You should well remember your place!" Almost instantly Ethan spun to face the foyer, his eyes searching pleadingly over the now deadly silent crowd for the woman those screams were no doubt directed to. "Oh no," He muttered, and then in the gravest of voices, whispered, "Raylan... what have you done?"

Vits followed Ethan's comment with quite a few choice words of her own, none of which were suitable for innocent ears. Without so much as a thought she reacted then, Vits marching past Ethan and straight into the hall, storming her way through the crowds towards the incident on the dance floor, silently praying things hadn't gotten worse.

And then the crack of flesh striking flesh resounded through out the Opera Populaire, and Vits knew it was too late.

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**Thanks for reading!**

**-Olivia N.**


	28. The Rooftop Confession

**Greetings everyone! I know it's been some time since I last updated, so after many complaints from our dear Sumner, I finally got off my lazy bum and finished the update. So here is the update! Woot! **

A little update on my life. I am currently attending a junior college in South Georgia, and I have a fairly full schedule (as does Sumner), but we will try out bests to produce updates as quickly and as well as we can. I do have a good bit of more editing to do, but we have some more stories written out for the future so no worries. We will get this story done for you all. Promises!

And now, I am going to do those review replies I have neglected to do for the past two chapters. Yay!

**A Few Thanks:**

**Shimmeringtears: Ha! Self absorbed bastard is fairly on target. I've read the Leroux and Kay books, seen the play and the movie, and have even seen the creepy Robert Enguld version of Phantom, and he always does have the common trait of being pretty self-centered. I think it's from him having to rely on himself for so long so he thinks of no one else. Eh, who knows? Anyways, glad you enjoyed that chapter, although Erik is being a stubborn ass, but he and Ray have a tendency to be that way. Thanks for reading as always!**

**Passed Over: I believe I sent you a private message relaying my appreciation for your review, but I am going to say it again anyways. I truly do appreciate your comment. It is by far one of the best reviews I have gotten, if only because you analyzed it so well. I deeply appreciate your approval of the writing style and the way our characters interact. About Vits, she is a very quirky character, and quite different from the normal preface of women-particularly during that time. More will be uncovered about her in the near future, but if you have any questions about Vits do ask, and we shall definitely answer them. And about the journal… well… that is honestly a lose end I forgot to tie up, so we will be getting to that soon thought cause it is easily fixable. Thank you for the review though and the adding us to your favorites! I am very glad you enjoy this story and I look forward to many more of your reviews in the future.**

**Angel-777: Lol, you don't have to beg for me to update. I might be slow and procrastinate, but eventually it flat out bugs me to keep you all hanging so I will always update. As I have said many times before, it is my intention to finish this story and I won't leave you hanging. I am glad you like the story though, and that Raoul is gay lol, but thank you very much for the review cause the more reviews I get the more inspired I am to write, so know that you helped me stop procrastinating. :) Thanks!**

**Alright, well that's it for now. Here is the awaited update! Enjoy, and thanks for reading!**

**Hugs and all that jazz, **

-Olivia N.

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"Don't!" Vits had cried, vaulting from the stunned crowds towards the scene occurring in the center of the dance hall. There the two idiots stood- Raylan who had already made the fatal mistake and Erik whose raised hand was prepared to deliver the same cruelty. With an amazing display of agility, Vits placed herself directly in harms way, a fierce fist closing around a skeletons cold wrist. Her stern green eyes met his glowing yellow ones without fear, a glance so cold and threatening that it out weighed even Erik's own brutal look. With her message across, Vits finally released Erik's wrist, and grudgingly he lowered it to his side. Carefully, Vits moved to where she could see them both, sending them looks of an equal amount of disapproval.

With a cool tone that sounded almost like a serpents hiss, Vits growled, "Do you have any idea how foolish this is?" She paused as they both tried to protest, but simply held up her hands seconds later, demanding silence. "As well as dangerous?" She added, her voice low, so only the two of them could hear it, leaving the on lookers out in the cold and whispering.

She quietly and forcefully berated them, "What the hell has gotten into you two?" Bitterly, Vits spun to Erik, in her anger forgetting who she was talking to, "You! You should know better-after everything that's happened. Especially with her," She tilted her head at Christine Daae, "here tonight!"

Vits spun to Raylan, "And I thought you had better sense than this!"

Again she met both their eyes boldly demanding a response, "Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Raylan for a moment only seemed to glare at Vits, stubbornly refusing to say anything or admit that she made any mistake, that was until she saw the investigator from before shoving his way through the crowds and advancing faster by the second. What she said in response to Vits undoubtedly took both the dancer and the ghost by surprise as she whispered suddenly, "Oh shit... I'm dead."

For a second, Vits looked at Raylan completely taken back by her quick agreement, but choosing to follow her friends frightened gaze, she took a quick glance in the direction of Raylan's stare. There was a man rushing forward, a man Vits did not recognize but one Raylan obviously had some fear in, and Vits had learned not to doubt Raylan's instincts. "Finally realization dawns!" Vits growled, spinning back to face the two before grabbing both of them by the upper arms. There was little time for words, Vits acting purely on what Raylan's eyes begged her to do. "Move quickly," She whispered. With force of direction fueled by her anger, Vits practically dragged the pair out of the Opera's grand entrance, pushing her way forcefully through the crowds with the matching pair behind her in tow.

It hadn't taken Vits long to find her way to the backstage of the Opera, passing by the sets and the props as she made her way. Through a series of back hallways she traveled, and into several secret passages unknown by many. They entered a tunnel of immense darkness, one that was only illuminated by Erik's eyes alone, yet Vits still seemed to know the way perfectly. It seemed like ages that they traveled through this pitch darkness, at least until Vits suddenly forced them into the amazing light of the Paris night life and the grand lamps surrounding the Opera Populaire. They had emerged upon the rooftop of the Opera house, just before Apollo's Lyre. The air outside hit them all like a block of ice, the winters cold nearly stealing the breath from them as they entered the outside.

Forcefully, Vits shoved the pair out into the snow, glaring bitterly at them both as she commanded, "Deal with your quarrels here. I don't give a flying flip what the hell this fight was about, but fix it now! And quietly. If you both value your lives as well as those of the rest of us than you will end this childish battling tonight!" With that she spun on her heels to exit through the passageway of wince they came, pausing only to shout over her should, "Once you are finished, I highly recommend that you both get out of sight and stay there!"

Raylan had spun about to face Vits then, entirely prepared to object before Vits slammed the passage door they had come through shut, not allowing Raylan the pleasure of explaining herself. So there she stood, left there upon a freezing December night on an Opera houses snow covered roof top with the man who couldn't appreciate her to save his soul. With a huff Raylan spun back to look at Erik, her mouth poised to shout at him but when nothing came out she simply stood there shivering partially from the cold and partially from the nerve racking events.

Erik had watched Vits in shock as well, surprised that he had let her get away with it. His shock was short lived though, Erik's eyes quickly settling on Raylan with a fierce glare as he growled, "You hit me Mademoiselle."

Raylan returned the glare, although her harsh words were soft with exhaustion as she growled, "And you almost killed me once- consider us even."

Abruptly, Erik turned his back towards her and stormed to the edge of the roof, leaning against the brick enclosing their prison. His eyes looked out over the city of Paris in all its nightly splendor. Snowflakes drifted lightly through the air, encasing the scene in dream like majesty that he honestly admired.

Raylan remained still, watching him with her always depthless eyes, confronting once more the battle inside. The choices rose again, whether to run or to stay, and once more she wasn't quite sure where she wanted to turn. To follow the heart or to follow instinct were two difficult decisions to make, and the bottled up rage within was not making things any clearer. She sighed when the answer became more distant, and finally giving in to her legs exhaustion, gracefully lowered herself to the ground and sat soundlessly on the roof, despite the dress that she knew was most likely expensive and easily ruined. Her eyes lowered from Erik's silent form to the gentle snow that was slowly coating the grime covered wood, and for a moment she lowered her hands and traced circles in the snow like a child easily fascinated by such simplistic pictures.

Erik looked over to Raylan sitting in the light crusting of snow, and shook his head. She was so childish at times. Normally he would have found her actions oddly cute, but now he only felt infuriated. Why did she have to be so foolish? Not in just her actions, but towards him? Didn't she know what Christine had meant to him? Didn't she realize how one woman had already crushed his heart, and how he couldn't stand it again? Didn't she understand? That's when it hit him like a lightening bolt. She didn't understand. She couldn't really know. Every story she had heard of that terrible incident was from the foolish lips of seamstresses and ballet rats. He had never taken the time to tell her the whole truth. But the again, would that change anything? Erik watched her silently for a moment longer, a whole battle playing over in his eyes until the choice was finally made. She had to know, if only for the sake of sparing him from having to go through another few weeks of Raylan giving him the cold shoulder.

His voice was soft and distant as he finally spoke; his eyes focused on the snow covered ground as if he could see the whole story written out in the snow before him. He breathed shakily, "Christine was just a child when she came to the Opera House. She was very similar to us in many ways… hurting and alone. Her father had just died, and she was an orphan abandoned in a ruthless world. She was so pure, and innocent. I watched her grow up, slowly and surely like many a chorus girl… but she was different. Perhaps it was the naivety, or the simple beauty… but I believe it was the raw angelic nature of her voice that drew me first. She… she had an excellent voice, but no confidence." He paused for a moment, cherishing lost memories.

Raylan had stopped drawing in the snow when he had paused, gently daring to raise her eyes to his distant gaze and listen. For a moment her mouth opened as if meaning to say something and then closed again as if in fear that if she talked he would close himself away again. Instead, she simply nodded in understanding so he knew she was listening.

"So, I began to train her, just as I had attempted to train our dear Vits. However, Christine was not as willful as Vits, or at least she didn't tell me to go jump in a lake," He chuckled at the memory, taking slight comfort in Raylan's tender giggle as she reacted to his comment, "So I trained her, first as the Angel of Music hiding behind a mirror in her dressing room. Slowly, she became comfortable with me. She has an amazing voice, as you heard, and I took much pride in shaping that voice so it could reach the very heavens. She was enchanting, and I… I…" Again he paused trying to gather his thoughts, as well as his voice. Tears welled up behind the mask, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

Her eyes had softened at his voice, recognizing the pain within his words all too well, knowing the relentless agony that such memories could bring. Inside she felt the urge to come to his rescue, to rise to his side and prevent him from having to relive his tale, but something deeper kept her seated, something that had to know more than anything else the sad truth.

"I fell in love with her," Erik admitted, his eyes shutting as if the truth was too painful to bear, "despite my best efforts not to. Her beauty, her innocence, her childish trust, and the magical voice I created… became my obsession. For years, I had spent life despising love for the mere reason that I could never have it, but with her… it seemed like a whole world of opportunities had opened up before me, and somehow I believed that despite the lies and the deception, she and I were destined to be. So… one night, despite what rationalizing warned, I brought her down to my home. I persuaded her with the power of my voice, and she blissfully followed. She was my angel and I honestly thought we could live forever in this dream like state, but human curiosity has always been a down fall and something that has continuously plagued my life. She saw me, without my mask, and it drove her into an odd state, as if she thought I was ill or something. I, foolishly, thought it would be alright, that after all my torment there was finally someone who could see past this deformity to what lie beneath the skin. She seemed to be that person, content and unafraid… but she was deceptive. It slowly ate her heart out, and when I confronted to her that I was no Angel of Music but instead Erik… I believe she stopped caring for me."

His voiced hardened, a fist closed in anger against old memories and foolish mistakes, "She… she betrayed me, and fell in love with the Vicomte de Changy, a wealthy insolent boy of status-and stupidity. He stole her away from me. Poisoned her mind against me. In the end he dragged her through a terrible plot to turn me into the police. Unfortunately for him, it didn't work. Yet in the end, in those last moments when jealousy had driven my logic away and I gave her a choice between me and her precious Vicomte's life, she showed me a mercy that no one had ever bestowed upon my wretchedness, and I couldn't kill the boy. Then… he took her away, and gave her a better life, while I was left in my agony… alone with the choice to either move on or die from the heartbreak. I had planned to die, but from unexpected circumstances I was forced to do otherwise. I left for at least a year, I suppose, although my concept of time was somewhat altered from the various degrees of substances I used to dull the pain. Still, this Opera House was also one of my greatest loves, and no matter how much the memories hurt, I couldn't stand to be parted from her for too long. I returned here… eight months before you arrived actually, and took my pain out on the Opera who foolishly believed their Phantom had vanished. I… I hadn't seen Christine again until tonight." He whispered his last words, his voice quivering as the pain and the agony became unbearable.

Raylan waited for some time after his words, simply watching again with gentle eyes as he struggled to keep his composure. What could she say now? It wasn't like she hadn't heard the story, it was in fact all the seamstresses had ever wanted to talk about, but never had she heard it like this. The story before had been one that haunted each chorus girls nightmares, one that caused fear that they too would one day be pulled down into the dead realm below, but now it sat in a different light. Not a nightmare, but a tragedy.

Slowly, Raylan rose from the ground, her now wet dress sticking uncomfortably to her form as she carefully closed the distance between her and this man of many secrets. She stood before him then, silent and uncertain of what to say or do accept just be near him, just quietly try to explain to him that she could on some terms understand.

Erik slowly turned his face up towards hers, meeting her eyes with a small questioning gaze, wondering how she would react to his story. Pity? Fear? Hate? It was how everyone else responded to his terrible fate. Something he had long since grown used to. Now was Raylan's defining moment. Who would she become to him? The pitying friend? The fake fearful love? The misinterpreting hater? How she reacted, he knew, would determine where they ended up. He waited for her reaction patiently like a man awaiting death, trying desperately to read those earthy eyes.

It seemed like an eternity that Raylan had just stood there, silently watching him and nothing more. The air grew quieter, the world colder, and as the minutes ticked life away nothing had changed. Then the bells sounded, like a chiming of some endless doom, and in the distance fireworks rose to light the night sky and voices exploded to fill the air with cheers they could not share in. The world rose in delight as the New Year began and another chance rolled along, a new start for so many. Raylan's gaze had momentarily drifted to the distance then, those great depths of hers reflecting the vibrant lights that erupted from within the city. It was January now; another chance to begin a new life, and truly that was all people like her wanted.

"Happy New Year," Raylan had whispered gently, the faintest hints of a smile appearing in the corners of her mouth. She sighed then, a sound of the slightest content before she turned back to gaze once more at the broken man before her. There was a gentle peace in her eyes then, the complete look of someone who had finally made up their mind, and softly because of that she began to smile. It was then that she extended her hand outwards towards him, her thin fingers gently reaching out to him and asking for his own.

"A new chance," She whispered, truth echoing in her soothing voice as she placed the opportunity before him, "Erik... will you dance with me?"

It wasn't really an answer, and he realized that, but there was a hidden message behind that sweet Southern smile. It asked him to trust her, to take another chance. There was no pity, fear, or hatred in those eyes. There was acceptance and honesty that refused to be denied. She was offering him a chance to start over, to change their short but violent history. She was different.

With a small smile, Erik took her hand, meeting her beautiful eyes with his own. "Of course, Mademoiselle," He grinned, and pulled her close for their first true dance.

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**Thanks for reading and reviewing! I'll be back with an update soon! I hope you enjoyed. Toodles!**

**-Olivia N.**


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